Tales of a Restless Mind
by BadVoodoo
Summary: My bunnies folder is overflowing, so here some are. These have been written in the last 4-6 years and I'm pretty sure I wrote them all, but some I don't even remember
1. Orpheus

DISCLAIMER: Nothing here is beta'd, not all of the chapters are even spell checked.

Some idea's here are developed, others are simply just random and unfinished.

I haven't read over all of them yet, but I am working on it. If you see duplicates, let me know.

I'm not opposed to the idea of others using my ideas, but please don't copy and paste my stuff.

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_Dr. Byron Orpheus:_

_The Guild of Calamitous Intent regrets to inform you that your nemesis, Torrid, has requested reassignment for a protagonist that better matches his theme. Furthermore, The Guild has a dearth of members with experience in the realm of magic that do not already have an archenemy._

_Given your enthusiastic pursuit of an arch-rival, The Guild has two options available for your future arching needs:_

_Given your proximity and involvement with the current incarnation of Team Venture, The Order of the Triad can be absorbed into Team Venture and be arched by Baron Werner Ünderbheit, The Monarch, Sergeant Hatred and the multitude of other minor villains with whom the Ventures interact._

_One of our highest level magical villains has recently engaged in unauthorized arching of a minor. In order to legitimize the minors ability to participate in Guild approved protagonist/antagonist relations, the minor needs to have a Guild approved mentor. Unfortunately, the minors current mentor is not a good fit, and is being considered for recruitment under the embittered forgotten hero clause of the International Villainous Conduct Accord of 1968._

_Should you choose to act as mentor for the minor Protagonist, you would accept that it is primarily his archenemy you would combat. This is not to say, however, that there will not be opportunities to engage in magical combat or to develop your own arch from among the minors arch's minions. There are several very promising candidates that could easily strike out on their own and be very successful villains should they so choose._

_Please give these offers some thought. When you come to a decision, simply speak it aloud and we will be in further contact to finalize the details._

_Sincerely,_

_Watch and Ward_

_Arching Coordinators_

_Guild of Calamitous Intent_

Byron Orpheus, Master Necromancer and leader of the Order of the Triad set the letter down before collapsing into a chair with an explosive sigh. Since moving into the Venture compound it had been his dream to have a costumed nemesis and for the brief time he had, he had felt a sense of fulfillment. Now, with Torrid abandoning him, he felt lost and betrayed. Still, the Guild of Calamitous intent had offered him options; a rather honorable gesture from the admittedly evil organization.

"I have need of guidance," the Doctor declared springing to his feet. He rushed to his daughters' bedroom and threw open her closet door; the gateway to the Necropolis. He soon found himself wandering through the burning wastelands in search of his old master.

"Orpheus," the familiar, somewhat taunting voice called out to him.

"Master, I have need of your guidance. I have lost my archenemy and am at loose ends as to what to do," Orpheus lamented looking around for what animal avatar his master would take.


	2. 00 Harry

Harry stared, irritably, at the odd trio that stood before him, waiting for answers.

He'd spent only a single night at Privet Drive before Remus had come and told him that they were going to Sirius' will reading and that it would likely affect his guardianship. A short portkey trip later and they found themselves in a small law office in London run by a wizard and his squib brother.

The reading itself was done very quickly, and the legalese of the proceedings went over Harry's head, but as he understood it, Andromeda Black was next in line for the head of the Black family and thus received all of the hereditary properties, money's and businesses. Remus received a lump sum of half of the liquid assets and a number of possessions, and Harry received everything else, including ownership of a manor in France currently inhabited by someone called Orion Black, who in turn, got legal guardianship of Harry in both the wizarding and muggle worlds.

Harry was again rushed by Remus from the proceedings after quickly signing the documents the lawyer had prepared for him, and thus found himself facing Bill Weasley, Percy Weasley and Remus Lupin standing in front of a large manor surrounded by, of all things, a mote. The marauder had attempted to usher Harry ahead of himself and the pair of Weasley's, but Harry had had enough and had demanded an explanation and that's how he came to be staring at the three wizards.

"Well, Harry," Remus began, "it's a bit of a complicated and involved story, really. I wanted to get you settled in before we got into everything, but I can understand your impatience," the werewolf sighed, "Let's start with this; this house is the house Sirius left to you; yes, we're in France. Two things immediately spring to mind to tell you about; one, this is your new home, two, you can use magic here freely."

"What about the guy who lives, lived here? Orion Black?" Harry asked. He wasn't really looking forward to yet another person telling him what to do, no matter how great everyone else thought that person, and especially since that person was a complete unknown to him.

Remus smiled wistfully, "This was Sirius' big plan, he was going to spring it on you this summer. Orion Black doesn't really exist, well, not anymore anyhow. He's an identity that Sirius created a long time ago if he ever needed to escape his family. He'd fake his own death, have some cosmetic surgery to change his looks slightly, change his hair, and assume the role of Orion Black, his distant, of age, neutral in the war, cousin. He set his will up so that you could be with him when he did it later this summer, but he never got a chance."

"Oh," Harry frowned, "So there is no Orion Black?" Remus nodded, "then who is my guardian?"

"You don't have one, Harry," Bill spoke up for the first time, "Sirius wanted you free from the Dursley's, and as long as Dumbledore could legally keep you there, he would, so he made everything legal…technically, you could and probably should assume the role of the reclusive Orion Black, a sort of alter ego for your protection so you can live a normal, private life if you ever tire of being Harry Potter."

Harry had a gut feeling they weren't telling him anything, but none of them seemed particularly interested in volunteering information. This, combined with with how Dumbledore acted and treated him, angered him a great deal. "This is all well and good," he said, keeping his voice calm, "but get to the bloody point. Details, all of them, now!" he demanded. Remus, Bill and Percy all exchanged glances, and when none immediately spoke up, Harry drew his wand on them.

"Harry!" Remus exclaimed, before talking a half step back as he was suddenly under the scrutiny of an intense emerald gaze.

"I've taken an awful lot on faith and for my own good, but unless you both prove your intentions towards me and start talking…" he trailed off, but the look in his eyes plainly demonstrated that stunners and body binds were not what he was talking about.

"Look Harry," Percy started, "we didn't really have a solid plan of how to approach you about this and Sirius' will being executed so quickly left us with little option but to play it by ear. There's a lot of information to take in and we really don't know how much you know and how you're going to take it."

"Just tell me everything, and let me worry about how I take it," Harry growled, not lowering his wand.

"Can we at least move somewhere a bit more secure, and have a sit down," Bill asked.

"Get to the fucking point," Harry yelled.

"Fine, there's a prophesy that says you're the only one who can kill Voldemort, we're part of an organization that wants to train you to succeed, but in return wants your political support. The training will be intense and thorough and you will not be expected to fight alone. The political support they want is for a movement designed to help to fix the current ministry, ousting the hard line purebloods, but also the radical liberals like Dumbledore and your friend Hermione," Percy stared at the now shocked young man, "now, can we go inside, sit down and talk this out like bloody adults, or are you going to continue your tantrum?"

"Alright then," Harry said, putting his wand away, and motioning the others to precede him.

In a few moments, they had led him to a comfortable sitting room and as Harry sat Bill cast a couple of spells around the room, then frowned. "Harry, you have a couple of trackers on you, and we'd prefer this place not be found any time soon…" he trailed off and motioned to Harry with his wand. At Harry's nod, he cast a couple of spells at him, and then another on the room at large and finally seemed satisfied.

When Bill was done, Harry spoke, "I suppose I have a few questions that I'd like answered," Remus motioned for him to continue, "first, how did you know about the prophesy?"

"We were afraid you wouldn't know the prophesy," the former marauder replied after a sigh of relief, "the answer to your question is twofold, one, Sirius knew it and told me in March. Also, we have a number of Unspeakable's in the organization and though they didn't have the exact wording, they did know the gist of it."

Pushing away thoughts of how useful it might have been to have that information before Sirius died, Harry asked another question, "So, tell me about the training, and exactly what it's going to cost me."

Bill and Remus looked at Percy, who hesitated, took a deep breath and began laying out the underlying goals; limiting the political power any single individual could wield; more fully integrating muggleborn magic users into magical culture and at a younger age as well as adding further protections against revealing the magical world to the muggle's; adding required loyalty oaths to political office to prevent abuse of power, bribes, discrimination, nepotism and bigotry; further equality for sentient beings that want it while still tracking potentially dangerous dark creatures like vampires and werewolves; mandatory trials requiring the full use of all available truth serums, wards, spells and methods and separation of the judicial and legislative branches of the Wizengamut.

Bill and Remus looked to Percy to explain. The most studious of Weasley's sighed in resignation and began to explain, "Our main goal is to limit the power any one individual can wield over the government and magical world; be they Fudge, Dumbledore or you know who. You're being groomed to replace Dumbledore, Harry, whether you want to or not. As a group, we'd rather you earn any position you want than have it given to you because you beat the current dark lord." Harry nodded in agreement, it was well know to this group that he hated his fame and special treatment anyway, "beyond that, we're more moderate than the pureblood fanatics but more conservative than Dumbledore and your radical friend Hermione." Percy went on to explain the details of everything to Harry, and much to groups mutual satisfaction, Harry embraced the ideals fully.

The group took a break for lunch after Percy's spiel, for which Harry and Remus were grateful as they had been on the go for a long while. Over lunch, Harry began asking about the training.

"The training depends on you Harry;" Bill stated, setting down his sandwich, and looking at the younger wizard, "there are two paths we're prepared for. The first is intense in the extreme. Rituals to strengthen your magical channels, more closely bind you to your magical core, and strengthen your body. Advanced training in the mind arts, starting with Occlumency, then empathy, possession, astral projection and magical awareness. Once you can master those subjects, there's an unspeakable method of training through absorption rituals, which would potentially allow you to master dozens of subjects theory. Coupled with this, there would be some pretty intense magical training every day so you can learn how to use the knowledge you gain."

"Wow," Harry said as he considered what he was hearing, there really wasn't another word for it.

"I won't lie to you Harry," Bill continued, "this option is like a crucible, it'll be hard, it'll hurt and it will change you in a lot of ways," he paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, "I honestly don't know if I could have gone through it at your age. I do know that the prospect of doing even half of what we're asking you now, for me, might be too much."

"The other option is for you to receive training the old fashioned way, with few, if any rituals and a smaller focus on the mind arts," Remus interjected, "Bill and I would be your primary tutors, but as many as a dozen others would come by to teach you different things. It will still be hard, and you'll still learn a lot. We're with you either way." Smiling, Remus added, "Or if you want to just find a topless beach in the south of France and work on your tan, we're still with you."

Harry laughed at that for a moment, before getting a dreamy look on his face, it took a moment for him to shake off the idle fantasy that had surfaced. Once he had, his decision was easily made, "When can I start the crucible?" he asked seriously.

"Harry," Remus nearly shouted, "you need to think about this. Don't just jump into it because it offers the most training the fastest."

"I don't need to think about it Remus," Harry snapped, "I listened to what Bill said, I know that I'm going to hate it and that I'm going to resent you at times, but I also know that I've wasted a lot of time over the last few years playing quidditch or chess or dodging out on my homework, not taking the reality of my situation seriously. Cedric's death made it clear to me that I'll never be normal in the traditional sense, and Sirius's death and the contents of the prophecy forced me to deal with any denial I had about my role in life. Now you offer me an opportunity to quickly gain the knowledge and skills that will keep me alive, and all I have to give up in return for it is my summer and to support a political movement that will help to limit the expectations and demands on me should I defeat Voldemort publicly. It's an easy choice for me, Remus; it's ideal."

"What about Sirius, Harry? You won't be successful with empathy, at the very least, if you haven't dealt with your grief. You can't just push yourself to the point where you don't think about it and expect to succeed."

"What do you want me to say, Remus?" Harry asked plainly, "Seeing Sirius die was pretty traumatic, just like seeing Cedric murdered was. But, as much as I feel a little guilty about thinking this way, life goes on. Sirius and I weren't nearly as close as I'd hope we'd be. A couple of letters, half of last summer and a Christmas vacation; that's basically all there was to our relationship." He paused, trying to explain himself, "I'm sorry he's gone, and I miss him, it was just hard to bond with a man who couldn't see past my resemblance to my father; it reminded me too much of how Snape sees me."

The group settled into an uncomfortable silence after this pronouncement as they finished eating their lunch. Remus quickly excused himself after their meal, saying he had some things he still needed to deal with involving the final disposition of Sirius' estate.

"That was sufficiently awkward," Percy offered after the elder man had left. He turned his attention then fully onto Harry, "back to your training, however, are you certain of your decision to go through…_everything_?" At Harry's determined and resolved look, he nodded to himself, "I shall arrange for your tutoring to begin tomorrow. William will stay with you for this evening, and your Occlumency tutor, an unspeakable called '11', will arrive at 9 am sharp. Be prepared to spend the entire day, every day from 9 am until 9 pm in training for the remainder of the summer." With that, Percy stood, nodded to his brother, then to Harry, and exited, saying "good day, gentlemen."

Bill and Harry merely continued to sit at the table in silence, each keenly aware that without Ron, Ginny or the Twins as buffers, they'd never really ever had a conversation or spent any time together. Harry, in an attempt to break the ice, asked, "You're dating Fleur, right," without waiting for an answer, he continued, "what's dating a part veela like?"

Bill laughed at the awkward question for the teen, realizing that like all other teens, Harry was both awkward and somewhat annoying, "tell you what Junior," he began, "until you've bedded half a dozen witches, or a metamormagus, you couldn't handle know what it's like dating a veela's."

Harry considered for a moment, and with a sly look, replied, "that's fine, but tell me, if you have kids, are they born, or hatched?"


	3. Admissions

Hermione Granger was grounded. It was unheard of, unprecedented, and would be unbelievable to nearly anyone who knew her. Only two weeks prior, it would have been unbelievable to her parents too; what a difference a little time and reflection can make.

Ophelia and Richard Granger noticed right away that something was different when they picked up their only child from Kings Cross Station following her fifth year at Hogwarts. Normally she was gushing to tell them about all she had learn, how she had done in her classes and about all the good and sometimes bad things she'd discovered about the Wizarding World. But on this day Hermione had been quiet, introspective and evasive until directly questioned about her year.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger had correctly believed the changes to stem from the trauma of directly confronting the terrorists known as Death Eaters and the severe injury she had received as a result. They had also assumed the changes to be temporary and that time away from that world with the love and support of her family would draw their Hermione forth; on this, they were both right and dead wrong.

After a quiet weekend, the Dr.'s Grangers returned to their surgery, leaving Hermione to her own devices. For her part, Hermione had said she would likely stay around the house or possibly go to the local library; both of which were rather normal behaviors for her.

Hermione's thoughts, however, were anything but normal. She was at loose ends; having nearly died and it was this stark realization that propelled her down the path that had landed her in trouble with her parents for the first time in her life.

With nothing better to do, Hermione pulled out a sheet of lined paper and a pen and began writing a letter to the only one of her friends she thought might understand.

_Dear Harry:_

_I'm writing you, hoping that you of all people can understand. _

_Allow me to start from the beginning: That night that we went to the Department of Mysteries, we nearly died. Unlike with the Stone or Sirius or even the Basilisk, it hit me like Dolohov's curse just how much danger we have been, were and even now are in._

_When I arrived home from Kings Cross it was all that I could think of. That realization, in turn, led to thoughts of all of the things in life that I have yet to experience. Believe it or not, I do not want to die a virgin. I do not want to die at all, but something else that I realized is that we do not get to choose our end._

_The point is that I realized that I was trying to live up to everyone else's expectations of me and not doing the things that would ultimately make me happy. I was, at least, until last Wednesday. I thought long and hard about what I was going to do to change my life to one with no regrets. _

_I'll admit that much of my thinking was self destructive at first. Thoughts of running off and whoring myself to whoever would have me, taking whatever narcotics that I'd ever been even the remotest bit curious about, and living only for the next high._

_While those thoughts appealed to me on some level, I realized that I have more to live for than that, that I'm better than all of that. But that did get me to thinking about the things in life that I was missing trying to be perfect. Unsurprisingly, being sequestered in a castle in the middle of nowhere in a society stuck in the Victorian Era is not conducive to self discovery. With that in mind, I did what I do best and I went to the library. _

_I found a number of books about philosophy, sex, emotion and religion and I devoured them. In the end, I have decided to live my own version of what Ayn Rand called rational selfishness. As such, among many other changes, I have decided, among other things, to embrace many of my baser; one could say hedonistic, desires._

_Please tell me you can understand what I am going through as my parents did not. They have grounded me, because they fear that I will do something rash that will ruin my future. It was this action, based on a future I neither asked for, nor desired, that cemented my resolve to shed the shackles of my own repression._

_I love you Harry Potter, as a friend at least, and possibly more._

_Write me_

_Hermione_


	4. Broken

As the pain rippled through his abdomen, Harry forced his mind to disassociate from the pain and the humiliation, focusing solely on how much he hated Dumbledore and his idiotic portrait for insisting that any special training for his confrontation with Voldemort would inhibit the so called 'power the dark lord knows not'.

A little training in warding, learning to apparate or make a portkey, even being taught to fight physically and he wouldn't be in this mess. Crabbe and Goyle, in an effort to gain favor with Voldemort formed the most simplistic of plans to capture Harry. Crabbe had asked his father for an emergency portkey that would work in Hogwarts, and then together, the large young men waited outside the Gryffindor common room. When a first year student opened the portal that early morning in September, his face was met with Goyle's fist shortly before his body met the ground.

The pair snuck through the porthole, up the stairs and into Harry's room completely undetected. On the count of three, they had torn back the curtains surrounding Harry's bed, then jumped on him and activated the portkey. It had been idiotically easy to remove Harry from Hogwarts.

Awoken by the crushing bodyweight of the two behemoths, Harry fought his way free of their girth, and removed Crabbe's wand from the larger boy. Unfortunately, his trained did not teach him to compensate for using a wand that was not his own and he was unable to even cast a stunner before Goyle's fist met its second face of the day and Harry was quickly knocked unconscious.

Harry was brought back to the present when the pressure in from behind him was eased; he breathed half a sigh of relief before he suddenly felt an odd sharp pressure against his back. A moment later, the blade passed through his skin, muscle and organs and back out of his belly. Bellatrix giggled madly and cooed "if you wont pay attention when I penetrate you otherwise, this is how I'm forced to do it." Several death eaters seated around the pair as if watching a dinner show chuckled at the comment, "Now, do I pull my knife out and heal you and start again with my fun," she paused to twist the blade, "or do I need to demonstrate to you again that I will penetrate you one way or another?"

The room became silent, as the audience leaned forward, listening for Harry's reply. "I don't hear and answer," Bellatrix pouted, very slowly withdrawing the blade, twisting it every so often for her own sick amusement. She cast a sonorous spell on Harry and asked again, her tone now menacing and harsh instead of petulant and childlike, "Do I need to show you," she paused, pressing the blade between some ribs on the right side of Harry's upper back, "that I will get what I want, one way," she pressed down, the blade sinking several centimeters into Harry's flesh, "or another."

The pain from the blade was excruciating, Harry reflected from his disassociated point of view, almost admiring how efficient Bellatrix was in getting what she wanted…as he thought, the blade began pushing through his back and he cried out, "whatever you want!"

This brought not only Bellatrix, but the entire group of death eaters, up short. "What was that?" the crazy witch asked, "I don't think I heard you properly, I think you said that I can do whatever I want, but that can't be, because we both already knew that. I think you need to ask me what you want me to do, beg me for what you want me to do."

"Please," Harry begged, thinking that his pride was not worth the pain, he wanted to live, to be free of pain, to do anything to not feel so weak anymore, to be free, even in this defeat, he could be free of the pain, free of an idiotic old man, free of the pressure of being the savior for the ungrateful and disgusting citizens of the wizarding world. He could be a slave to Voldemort and be free of it all. "Please, mistress, please," he addressed her as she originally instructed him, before he saw the cost of pride, "please penetrate me in whatever way pleases you the most."

Strangely, he felt no shame, he felt no regret, even his anger faded away, he felt only anticipation. "Leave us," Bellatrix suddenly commanded the stunned audience. When nobody made a move, she held her wand aloft in her left hand and the blade, still covered in Harry's blood, aloft in her right, poised to attack with one or both of the implements of death and pain.

When the room had cleared, Bellatrix began walking in circles around him, "Harry, Harry, Harry," she chanted slowly, shaking her head slightly as if disappointed in him, "I thought you would be much more difficult to break," she leaned down, the violet of her eyes meeting the green of his, "or did I not break you," she whispered, "do you want this, crave it even. Do you get off on being violated and humiliated?" She ran her hands down his back, across his butt and down his legs, then dragged her fingernails back up, stopping to grope him, "Do I get you hard?" she asked, stroking him to an erection, "Knowing I killed your godfather, knowing I'm a murderer and I revel in pain and death and bath in the blood of innocent children." She spit on her hand and began stroking him harder, whispering throatily to him, "I think you like it! I think I'm every dark thought you want to act out and have never been able to, I think if I let you, you'd take your revenge on the world," he twitched in her hands, "That thought excites you the most, doesn't it?" She squeezed him tightly, "vengeance. Not on us who are evil, in your eyes, but on those who claim they fight us, those who expect you to sacrifice everything, suffer, so they may become richer and lazier." Harry was panting hard now as her hands steadily stroked him, "You'd swear a blood oath to sit by my side, as my sextoy if only for one shot to be as bad as you wanted to be, wouldn't you?"

Harry's head arched back, his eyes filled with lust and the fire of hatred and he yelled with all his might, "Yes!" as he shot his seed all over her hands. Several pumps of her fists and he was spent. As he panted and regained his breath, he spoke again, just a whisper, "Yes."

Bellatrix smiled, releasing his bonds and healing his back, "I shall teach you and you shall be mine to do with as I please, in time, I may view you as an equal, but that time is not yet. Let us first to our lord and have you marked."

Without hesitation Harry stood, nude, but uncaring and answered, "yes mistress," he smirked, his face reflecting a hard cruelty that had not been present before, "Anything you say." He stressed the word anything, his cock twitching slightly.

"You will be fun," Bella murmured, "I believe that my first order for you is to kill my husband, you are far more suitable a man for me, both powerful and obedient." Harry smiled a sharks smile and followed his mistress from the torture theater.

The pair entered Voldemorts throne room, which was crowded by a number of death eaters, many of whom had been forced from the theater by Bellatrix only moments before, all of them goggled at the unrestrained, nude form that followed her towards their lord.

"My lord," she said with a bow, before turning to Harry and raising an eyebrow.

He knelt, "My lord, my mistress wishes me to be marked and to enter your service."

"Leave us," Voldemort hissed at the assembled death eaters, "Rodolphus, Rabastan, please remain." The room cleared save for the Dark Lord, Bellatrix, the Lestrange brothers and the nude and still kneeling Harry Potter. "Potter comes to me and kneels of his own free will?" Voldemort half asked, half stated, addressing Bellatrix.

"My lord," she said, and when he inclined his head for her to continue, she did, "he comes to you not entirely of his free will. He accepted his place as my slave and it was I that ordered him to kneel before you."

"Such impudence," Voldemort hissed, "You dare order him to kneel before me, you dare presume such power?"

"My lord…" Bellatrix began.

"Silence," the snakelike man roared. "Crucio," he hissed, and Bellatrix fell to the ground writhing in agony.

No sooner had she fallen, than did Harry take his chance. He leapt to his feet, his eyes blazing at Voldemort as he moved towards the distracted dark lord. The Lestranges stepped between their master and the young man who glared defiantly at him.

The dark lord lifted the curse and turned towards Harry, "You have something you wish to say, boy?" he whispered dangerously.

"I do," Harry yelled defiantly, before lashing out at the distracted brothers, his fist impacting Rabastans throat as his foot impacted Rodolphus' groin. The pair both fell to the ground and Harry pounced on Rodolphus. His foot repeatedly fell on the man's throat, crushing it thoroughly. "Mistress," Harry called softly, as he kicked Rabastan in the face, "I can never remember which of these is your husband, I apologize if I've killed the wrong one." Bellatrix, from her place on the ground, smiled despite the residual pain coursing through her body as Harry continued, "so I'll just kill them both," and he proceeded to stomp both men until he could no longer detect their breathing.

Voldemort leaned back in his throne as he watched the display of pure rage play out before him, and chuckled when, after killing two of his inner circle, the young man again knelt before him as if nothing had occurred. "I apologize, Bella, I see that my anger at your presumptiveness was uncalled for. I believe that Mr. Potter, after being suitably purified and trained will make a fine replacement for both your husband and my inner circle." The almost warm tone Voldemort spoke in disappeared as he continued, "have him suitably trained, purified and groomed to join my ranks in six months and he shall take his place in my inner circle…If you should fail to prepare him adequately, he will not be the only one who pays the price. Leave me, and send Goyle and Pettigrew to clean up his mess."


	5. Captain Magic

'_My life has never been normal,'_ Steven Rogers thought to himself not for the first time.

Sitting before the tall and powerfully built teen were two men who claimed to have known his parents; Remus Lupin was a thin man, seemingly prematurely aged, with grey speckles in his otherwise sandy brown hair and a peculiar shade of amber eyes, and his partner, Sirius Black, was a pale man with shoulder length dark hair and grey eyes. The pair had told him they'd been searching for him since his disappearance after his parents' death, some 13 odd years.

"So let me get this straight," the teen began, "when my parents died…"

"They were murdered," Sirius cut in.

"Yes, well, as I was saying," Steven continued, "when my parents were murdered, I was left on the doorstep to my aunt and uncle's home by the headmaster of the boarding school my parents went to, only for them to turn around and abandon me at a church?"

"There is more to it than that," Remus explained, "though you have the basics correct so far."

"And I should have gone with you," he pointed at Mr. Black, "my Godfather, but that was somehow overruled, and by the time anyone bothered checking on me, I was lost?"

Sirius frowned and nodded; he had long regretted allowing Hagrid to take Harry that night. He had suffered for that decision by spending 10 years in Azkaban before Peter had finally slipped up and been caught.

Steven could see that both men regretted what had happened, though that didn't really help him now. Because of their action or inaction he had spent 11 years as a test subject for Paragon Genetic Research Corporation's super soldier and eugenics program. He had never been abused or mistreated, even occasionally being allowed to play with some of the other test subjects and scientists children to become socially acclimated, but over time he became resentful of his captivity.

When the scientist in charge of his project and closest thing to a father figure he'd known, Obidiah Hargrave, had turned evidence on the covert and illegal operation, he stated that Steven had been found on the streets of London only a few weeks prior and though he'd been held against his will, no experiments had yet been performed on him. Whether this was an act of pity, contrition or self preservation didn't matter to the teen, it meant that he was finally free to live a real life.

In the two years since his emancipation, Steven had lived in the group home where he'd finally been found by the men before him.

Returning his thoughts to the present, the teen turned to Remus, "you said there was more to it?"

Both men smiled rather widely somehow reminding the youngest of the trio of a pair of canines. "Do you believe in magic?" Remus answered.

If they hadn't had his full attention before, that question certainly got it; the fact that it was accompanied by the man, Sirius, turning himself into a large black dog before his very eyes, while impressive, seemed inconsequential in the face of the sudden connection he made between several of his more unique abilities and his past.

'_Sod normal!'_ Steven thought to himself.

Something must have shown on his face as Remus continued, "You know, don't you? On some level, you knew?"

Thinking for a moment, he decided that though he might one day entrust the men with the details of his past, now was not the time; "I have certain…abilities that couldn't easily be explained," he admitted.

"Like what?" Sirius asked, having reverted to his human form.

"Well, I certainly can't turn into a dog," Steven said through a smile, "but I can sense..." he hesitated for a moment, "energy, I guess, around me. I can move things without touching them and I can teleport," he paused, "oh, and I can talk to snakes, though it's a pretty useless talent."

His smile faded a little as he noticed Sirius and Remus react to news that he could speak with snakes. Sirius frowned outright, while Remus' face took on a thoughtful look.

"What's wrong with talking to snakes," Steven demanded.

"Nothing's wrong, Harry…err…Steven," Remus answered, "it's just that it's a very rare talent often associated with dark wizards. The only known Parseltongue in recent history, which is what being able to speak snake language is called, is the man who killed your parents."

"Any wandless magic is pretty impressive," Sirius cut in, "summoning and banishing is more than I can do."

"You said something about the man who killed my parents," Steven began, "what happen to him?"

"That's where the more complicated comes in kiddo," Sirius answered in a somber voice.

"After he'd killed your mother and father he turned his wand on you," Remus picked up, "nobody is sure exactly what happened next, but you lived and he disappeared leaving behind only some charred robes and the scar on your forehead."

For the first time both men glanced at Stevens' forehead and noticed a distinct lack of the famous lightning bolt scar, rather there was only a little discoloration.

Seemingly reading their minds, the boy offered, "I had cosmetic surgery a few years ago to get rid of it." The truth of it was slightly more complicated, the Paragon brass had decided that the scar was a far too distinguishing feature and had to go.

The trio fell into silence, the elder pair reliving the painful past and the younger man simply trying to come to grips with what he'd been told and prepare himself for the inevitability of more.

"So," Steven said at length, "what now?"


	6. Charmed, I'm Sure

19 year old Harry Potter sat in a window seat of the Boeing 747 staring out into the inky black darkness as the 2 AM flight from London to New York cruised several miles above the Atlantic Ocean. The taciturn young man reflected on his past, as he often did when left to his own devices, and just how things had turned out this way.

There were many significant events in Harry's short life, that could be called life altering; his parents murder and his subsequent defeat by unknown means of Voldemort, his being sent to live with the Dursley's, finding out he was a wizard, going to Hogwarts, Voldemort's rebirth, and the death of his godfather, Sirius Black were, to him, some of the most significant moments of his life. But one moment stood above the others in leading him to where and who he was now; his irrevocable split from Albus Dumbledore.

It had been Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Harry knew even then that it would not be a good year. The first crack between him and Dumbledore, the dropping of the prophecy on Harry moments after his godfathers death, seemed to be mended, but the foundation had been damaged, and like a pebble starting an avalanche, things just sort of fell into place.

Katie Bell, one of the few girls in his life that he was comfortable around, even harboring a small crush on the pretty Gryffindor Chaser, had been imperio'd, and instructed to take a piece of cursed jewelry to Dumbledore. It was a rather amateurish attempt on the headmasters' life, but it did nearly kill Katie. Harry, who was at the time occasionally taking lessons with Dumbledore where they reviewed the life of Tom Riddle via pensieve, railed to the man, expressing his rage, grief, and fear of what had happened to his friend. Dumbledore had assured him that things would work out, and had dismissed Harry, skillfully dodging answering any questions about what he knew of the situation. Several months passed, and Harry became more agitated, Katie was still missing and nobody would tell him anything, his owls returning unanswered. Dumbledore's lessons had become monotonous, as they viewed one memory after another but never really did Harry feel he was learning anything of overt importance that the headmaster couldn't have just told him about in an afternoon, rather than dragging things out over several months, the new minister seemed to want to make him a figurehead and worse still, Malfoy was up to something but nobody believed him.

Things with Dumbledore came to a head in late April, during their first lesson after Harry's best friend Ron had been poisoned. After discussing the couple of memories they had viewed and Dumbledore explaining the idea of horcruxes, and his theories on Voldemort creating a number of them. Harry had listened to the mans explanation and had finally hit his limit in patience for his mentor and had confronted him, point blank, about all the doubts he had in the man and what they were doing. The headmaster had attempted to hem and haw and avoid the questions, but Harry persisted, calling upon Dumbledore's words the year prior to not keep things from Harry. What he had learned horrified him.

Snape had taken an oath to kill Dumbledore to protect Malfoy, who had been responsible for two of his friends near deaths and the headmaster, in order to protect Snape's position as a questionable spy, had let the junior death eater off without repercussions. Further, Snape and Dumbledore agreed that it was likely that Malfoy would try again soon and that eventually his attempts would become public and since Snape had vowed to protect the boy, they had conspired together and planned Dumbledore's death such that Snape position as a spy was protected.

Harry had been stunned at the picture the old man had painted, the idea of that much effort and the loss of the leader of the light to protect two worthless death eaters ate at him for a short few of minutes before he decided he had no choice but to stop it. The problem he had was that he knew of very few people who didn't bow to Dumbledore and his greater good philosophy, and only one of them had never tried to kill him.

He was pulled from his musings as a matronly flight attendant that reminded him of the woman with the snack trolley on the Hogwarts Express, stopped to check on him, offering him a number of amenities from food and drink to a pillow and blanket. Harry took her up on the latter and was suddenly thankful he had opted for first class. Fluffing his pillow, and pulling the blanket around himself, his thoughts turned to his meeting with Minister Scrimgeour.

Harry laid his cards out on the table, Malfoy's murder attempts, Snape's oath, and Dumbledore's complicity, there was more, but he didn't trust the minister enough to entrust him with the details of the prophesy or the existence of horcrux's.

To say that Scrimgeour had been shocked was an understatement, particularly when Harry offered to sweeten the pot and endorse the ministry publicly if he would agree to Veritaserum questioning and full trials for all those apprehended by the ministry. The Minister had countered, explaining that trials took a great deal of time, particularly during a war, that all suspects would be questioned under Veritaserum and only those who admitted to the most heinous of crimes would be sent to Azkaban, while others would be sent to a ministry holding facility under the Fidelius charm and guarded by aurors; and anyone who had not committed a crime would be immediately released.

Ministry aurors had swooped in the day after their meeting, arresting Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Snape and removing Dumbledore from the position of headmaster for knowingly endangering students under his care multiple times. Scrimgeour had needlessly advised Harry that it was unlikely to get Dumbledore with any charges beyond those, as he wielded a large amount of respect and political influence. Living up to his end of the bargain, Harry did an interview for the Daily Prophet stating that he supported the ministry's actions and that he found Minister Scrimgeour to be a strong and fair leader, particularly in light of the dangers presented by the threat of Voldemort and the death eaters.

As the story broke, Harry experienced significantly less backlash from his students and teachers than he expected; though one exception was Hermione, who felt that he had betrayed her by not coming to her before acting. Harry got the distinct impression that she had been in the know about Malfoy and that her disinterest and avoidance of those issues she would have previously supported him wholeheartedly suddenly made more sense.

Ron must have gotten the same impression and having been victim of Malfoy's attacks, was not in any mood to suffer Hermione's lectures and superior attitude, and so had given her a sad and betrayed look before walking away from her. Subsequent attempts from her to talk to him were met with silence when possible, and terse responses when unavoidable.

As if things had not been bad enough at the time, Harry had become paranoid after Ron's poisoning, at how easily it could be done in Hogwarts and had taken to checking for any additives in his food and drink at every meal, only to find out that his drink was regularly dosed with a love potion. He kept quiet about his discovery, and asked Dobby to discover for him, who was doing it. The elf he'd grown fond of began blubbering and twisting his ear violently as he sobbingly confessed putting a potion in Harry's drink for 'Littlest Wheezey' to make him feel better. He confessed that he'd been doing it for her in small doses throughout the year.

When confronted about the potions, Ginny laughingly stated it was just a lark and he should get over it, before asking him to Hogwarts since she was suddenly single. It did not occur to her that Harry wasn't laughing as she went on about how her mother had helped her while they were at the Burrow and Dobby had dosed him once a week all year. Harry had reported Ginny to Deputy Headmistress Sprout and Headmaster Flitwick, and the girl had been expelled for the remainder of the year. Ron had understood Harry's actions, but also defended his little sister and mother's actions. While they weren't hostile to each other, the trust between the pair was fractured. The golden trio, once the strongest friendship in Hogwarts, had been torn asunder in less than a month.

And so Harry had retreated into his studies, fading into the background much as he had when growing up with the Dursley's. His contact with the Order of the Phoenix was limited, messages relayed through Remus, as Dumbledore refused to grant him membership, lest he again turn them in to the ministry. Snape and Malfoy turned out to be large wells of information for the ministry and helped to set the stage for the arrest and imprisonment of a large number of death eaters and supporters, who thusly led them to others, crippling Voldemort's forces.

Life in the wizarding world returned much to normal over the next three years, the ministry and Harry Potter were looking out for the wizarding world and despite Voldemort's power, he rarely personally went on raids and lacked the manpower to strike at any large targets. The dark wizard born as Tom Marvolo Riddle entered into a quiet period where he focused his attention on recruiting, which given the new tolerance policies of the ministry and Hogwarts, was difficult.

Three years passed as Harry focused on ways to discover the unknown power, find the horcruxes and defeat Voldemort. All of that had led him to a plane flying over the ocean in the middle of the night as his search for obscure and unknown magicks led him to the melting pot that was North America.


	7. Escape from Privet Drive

Harry worked quickly grabbing his wand and cloak from inside of his trunk. He strapped the wand to his thigh in a makeshift holster, threw the invisibility cloak over himself and made to leave. He hesitated, not wanting to leave his trunk and possessions where the Dursleys could get to them. Deciding anything was worth a try, he quickly spoke, "Dobby?" nothing happened, "Dobby, I need you," still no response. Sighing, he grabbed his trunk and began lugging it behind him; inconspicuous he was not.

Exiting number 4 Harry had decided he would leave his trunk with Mrs. Figg; as a member of the Order, she would at least see to it that it was not destroyed. Serriptishly dragging the trunk behind his invisible body, he began his escape. A total of four steps later, a voice rang out from behind him.

"Where ya going Harry," Tonks disembodied voice rang from somewhere off to his left.

"I can't be here anymore Tonks," he replied, listening closely for audio clues about where she was.

"Dumbledore…" she did not get more than that word out.

"Can kiss my ass," he growled, "if he likes the Dursleys so much, he can stay here himself; I'm leaving."

Harry heard Tonks mumble slightly under her breath, obviously annoyed, it was enough to tell him where she was, he made his decision. "I'm sorry Tonks," he said.

Her eyes widened under her invisibility cloak as he said this, but she had no time to react as suddenly she found Harry's trunk flying through the air directly at her.

Harry heard the thump of his trunk making contact with the female auror, and her subsequent crash to the ground beneath it, he made haste throwing the trunk off her and simultaneously grabbing her invisibility cloak. She staggered to her feet; all traces of the clumsy, upbeat young woman were gone, replaced by an enraged and highly trained witch. He gulped silently as he drew his wand; slowly making his way behind her, she jumped slightly and turned towards him; obviously, he had not been quiet enough. He backed away and approached her again, this time straight at her, she had heard him again, but assumed incorrectly that he was trying to get behind her; he barely avoided her wand arm as she again jumped and covered her back. Slinking the rest of the way to her back, he pressed his wand firmly against her neck, anticipating her reaction, he struck her wand out of her hands when she spun, his wand remaining trained on her, now pressing against her cheek.

"I'm sorry Tonks," he said sadly, "please take my trunk with you to where ever you report to." With that, the auror felt the wand pressed painfully into her face slowly back away. Sighing in resignation, the auror got to her feet, retrieved her wand, grabbed his trunk and disapparated, all the while not relishing having to tell Dumbledore that Harry had disappeared, not to mention the dressing down Moody would be giving her for being bested by a 15 year old boy.

Harry had backed away several paces and watched guiltily as Tonks got up, retrieved her wand and his trunk and disappeared. Shaking his head clear of the feeling, he replaced his wand and began to jog away, knowing a search party would be looking for him very soon.

As he accelerated, the wind began wipping through his hair and the silky fabric of his invisibility cloak against his body and trailed off flapping behind him. Concerned he may be seen from behind, he began fiddling with the cloak, bunching it up as much as he could while keeping up as brisk of pace as he could. It was because he was distracted so that he did not notice the red sports car that flew around the corner and rammed into his legs, sending him flying through the air.

"Shit," Harry said as he flew through the air, unwittingly voicing the same thought that Piers Polkiss had when he heard the thump against the car. Piers considered stopping briefly, but considering that he was driving a stolen vehicle, he quickly decided against it.

Harry landed roughly, his momentum added to that of the car causing him to tumble for several feet before coming to a complete stop. Thankfully for Harry, he had hit his head on the curb during his landing, knocking him out and keeping him from experiencing the full range of pain such an accident presented him.

Harry groaned as he returned to consciousness, expecting to be in a great deal of pain and still lying on the side of the road somewhere. He slowly opened his eyes only to see a sterile white ceiling, taking a deep breath he smelled sterile air mixed with the lingering scent of several healing potions, including, to his disgust, skele-grow. Tilting his head slightly, expecting to see several cots lining the wall of the Hogwarts hospital ward; instead he sighted a white wall with a door. Confused, he turned his head the other direction and saw a window that looked out over the dark city of London.

"What the hell?" he said to himself.

"Indeed," stated the aged voice of the old man sitting next to his bed.

Harry groaned, out of every person in the entire universe, there were precious few Harry wanted next to his bed at that moment less than Albus Dumbledore.

"I did not realize my presence caused you so much grief," the elder wizard said in response to Harry's groan.

"It didn't used to," Harry replied, staring hard at Dumbledore.

The headmaster looked older to Harry, more bent by age and emotion than he was used to. "I suppose I can understand that," he said evenly; after a moments pause, he asked, "Harry, why did you leave your relatives?" His tone made clear he was disappointed in Harry.

"Do you remember you once said that people are often given the choice between what is right and what is easy?" Harry asked.

Surprised by the non-sequitur, he hesitated a bit before answering, "I do remember saying that," he paused, "it is true," he added.

"Now tell me, when you chose to leave me at the Dursleys, was that because it was right, or because it was easy?" Harry asked, then, not giving Dumbledore a chance to respond, he continued, "was it right or easy to drop the prophesy on me when I was already so distraught I couldn't see straight? Was it right or easy to imprison me at the Dursleys? Surely, somebody could have actually checked on me; but nobody did. Did nobody find it odd that I did not even send a letter to the order saying I was fine? Did my guards not notice I had not left my room even to eat or go to the bathroom?" His voice was calm and quiet, carrying only the slightest hint of the rage boiling just under the surface, "Do you even know what is right when it comes to me headmaster?"

"Harry, I only tried to do what was best…"

"What you felt best?" Harry hissed dangerously, "that is all the answer I need." He turned from the headmaster, and focused on combating his increasing rage.

"What would you have me do Harry? Let you roam freely where any dark wizard can get at you?" Dumbledore asked serenely.

Turning back to face the elderly man, staring in to his eyes challengingly, Harry replied calmly, "how is that any different that letting me roam the halls of Hogwarts? It seems any dark wizard that wants to can 'get at me' there any time they like."

"Harry, you must understand…"

"I understand that you are incapable of protecting me without imprisoning me."

Dumbledore had no response for the accusation and began pondering several recent incidents, growing more concerned by the actions words of the young man in front of him.

While the old man sat in front of him, worry evident on his ancient features, Harry sat contemplating what he wanted from the man, it would not due to merely run away with no long term or even short plan for his future living arrangements. He did not want to go to the Burrow; while he liked spending time there, and spending time with the Weasleys, they could be overwhelming, and he did need time alone to figure things out in his own head.

Both Dumbledore and Harry made to address the other at the same moment, bringing a faint twinkle to Dumbledore's eyes and a quirk of Harry's lips. Dumbledore continued at Harry's gesture, "Harry," he said earnestly, "while I can see your point about your isolation while in the care of your aunt and uncle, it really is the safest place for you to be."

Harry growled, the old man had not listened to a word he had said; as much as he did not want to do this, it seemed the only way he could properly convey his message. "Do Legilimency on me, call up all of my memories from the time I returned to Privet Drive this year until I left," he said, radiating anger at the fool before him.

Dumbledore was confused by the request, but seeing how Harry was staring at him expectantly, he could not really think of a reason not to. Drawing his wand, he pointed it at Harry and quietly spoke the spell. The boy had made it easy for him, pushing the memories he wanted to see to the front of his mind, obviously Severus had been less than forthright with his charges capabilities.

_This thought quickly left him as he saw a defeated looking young man walk into an unnaturally tidy house, only to be immediately set upon, humiliated, made to feel worthless, and locked away by a much larger man. _

_The memories he sifted through were mundane after this, a day passed with absolutely no contact, no way to contact anyone or signal for help, just a bed and a window. Another day passed, as the little bit of hope he felt from the young man that somebody might check on him began to fade. A third day passed; then a fourth; finally five days had gone by with absolutely no contact from anyone. The dread, despair, and self-hatred he felt from the boy were overwhelming. The words of Vernon Dursley began to constantly repeat in his mind. The fifth night the boy collapsed into a heap while pacing; given that the boy had not slept in those five days, it was not so surprising, though it disturbed him greatly that the thought of actually attempting to sleep never entered into Harry's mind._

_Having seen enough to concede that Harry was about as well off going to the Durlselys as he was being sent to Azkaban, Albus attempted to pull away from the memories; he was greatly surprised to find he was unable to do so. The remainder of Harry's summer played out to Dumbledore, through to his attack on Tonks. While just as vicious as she had described, he found himself empathizing with Harry, rather proud that the younger man had apologized, and impressed at the method used to take down a fully trained auror and invisible auror. Yes, Harry was indeed an extraordinary young man._

Dumbledore found himself released from Harry's memories a moment later and he took a moment to digest what he had endured. Staring at the young man, he could see in the dull green eyes staring back at him that it would take more than merely removal from the Dursleys and an apology to fix the damage done to both his relationship with Harry, and the young man's psyche.

"I do see now Harry, that that is not an environment that I can in good conscious ask you to return to. It strikes me to ask why you told nobody it was that bad," holding his hands up to forestall an objection, he quickly continued, "but I know you did and we were not listening to you. I am sorry for that Harry." He paused, trying to think of a good solution to the dilemma he had before him, to send Harry to Grimmauld place seemed on the surface a good idea, but then he did something he should have long ago; he envisioned what it would be like to return there from Harry's prospective and quickly found the idea distasteful. He could send Harry to the Burrow, but had a niggling feeling that this too was not something Harry wanted. "Alas, Harry, I am at a loss for what to do for you," he said eventually.

"Perhaps," Harry began, his tone quite icy, "you should allow me to decide, or at the very least, ask me. Did that thought never occur to you?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, the thought had indeed not occurred to him; flustered at himself, he sighed, "I'm sorry to say Harry, that the thought did not occur to me. What is it you want to do?"

Harry's eyes glassed over slightly as he thought. He was both angry at how much it took to get somebody to actually ask his opinion of what he wanted from his own life, but relieved that he had finally beaten it into somebody that he did have an opinion. Letting his feelings go, he thought about what it was he wanted.

The first thought he had answered that question; _what I want is to be normal, to live like a normal person_. He snorted; having no illusions any longer that he was anything but normal he moved on. The idea of living a life where he dictated his own actions appealed to him greatly, especially in lieu of the revelation of the prophesy; any modicum of control over his own life was golden to him. Slowly a plan formulated surrounding a theme of freedom.

"What I want," Harry began slowly, "is to have a chance to be alone with my thoughts, but not isolated from my world and my friends. I want to have a sanctuary where I can actually relax and let my guard down sometimes without worrying who is watching me. The best idea I can come up with that covers what security precautions I am sure you will insist on, is to move to some small property under the Fidelius Charm with me as the secret keeper. I would need floo access to the Burrow and Hogwarts and an emergency portkey. It would help if I could be given an exception to the apparation and underage magic laws as they make me a sitting duck. If it weren't for them, I would not need near the protection that I do now as I am quite capable at defending myself from all but Voldemort himself."

Dumbledore frowned; he had heard a similar statement from another young man with messy black hair and glasses. "I can not say that I like your solution any better than sending you to the Burrow or Hogwarts for the remainder of the summer, but I understand your want for solitude without losing touch with our world. I would like some concessions however; I would like to be the secret keeper myself, and I would like at least one order member permanently stationed where you are to be living."

It was Harry's turn to frown, he had expected Dumbledore to want further security than what he had originally stated, but a live-in security guard and Dumbledore as secret keeper seemed like just another prison to Harry. He was also rather perturbed by the avoidance of addressing Harry's requests about magic and apparation.

"Your conditions sound a lot like me trading in one prison for another with that has a better view," Harry stated. "I would like control over who enters my home and who does not. I will accept somebody living with me; provided I decide whom. I want to be secret keeper myself." Dumbledore looked at Harry with what he almost believed was hurt in his eyes, at this statement, "it has nothing to due with trusting you," he added hastily. "Even if we do not see eye to eye on my best interests, I know you care about me. I just want to be able to invite friends over should I want to, and it's easier and safer being my own secret keeper than it would be toting around a piece of paper with my address on it, so to speak." He smiled sheepishly at this, but thought he had made a good point.

Warily, Dumbledore thought about what Harry had said and found himself in negotiations about the young man's future living arrangements. While he had become accustomed to expecting people to do as he told them, it was not his place to dictate another person's life to them. The memories of what he inflicted upon Harry because of his decisions on how he was to live were still fresh enough in his mind to make him distinctly uncomfortable with how this conversation was going.


	8. Fight Club

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..._

_The words rang as clear in Harry's ears now as he wandered the back towards Gryffindor tower, his feet finding the way automatically. It was easier to focus on the prophecy than it was to think about what Sir Nicholas and Luna had told him. _

_Until those conversations he'd been thinking only of the guilt and shame of losing Sirius. When he stopped and considered what Luna had told him, and realized that despite loving Sirius, the two of them were hardly closer than Harry had been with Barty Crouch Jr. It was a sobering and disturbing thought and left him feeling guilty, not only for not knowing Sirius better, but for actually feeling better about Sirius' passing after that realization. _

_He had pushed aside that guilt by focusing on the only other thing in his mind significant enough to dispel the feelings, even for a little while, his ultimate fate. He didn't really know what he was going to do, but he sure didn't buy Dumbledore's theory that love would somehow win the day. He felt like the old man had told him that good always triumphed over evil because that's just the way it was. Harry knew very well that wasn't the case._

_Despite his best effort to keep free from thoughts of Sirius, his mind was wont to wander and he began wondering how his godfather would have handled the pressure of being famous and having the fate of the wizarding world on his shoulders at the age of 15. That inevitably led him to Snape's Pensieve memory of young Sirius Black and James Potter._

_He snorted, "They'd have probably used it as an excuse to get laid and live it up as much as possible and letting the future take care of itself." Harry's entire mind froze up, and for a moment, he achieved a state of mind that was equal to Snape's half arsed demand to 'clear your mind, Potter.'_

_"Why shouldn't I?" Harry wondered aloud._

_"Why shouldn't Potty do what?" Peeves the poltergeist asked inquisitively as he lined up to throw a Dungbomb at the young wizard._

_Harry smirked in a way that would have made Salazar Slytherin green with envy and answered, "Whatever I want Peeves." The short little apparition wasn't prepared for such an answer and looked at his intended victim curiously. Harry drew his wand in a flash, "Immobulus!" he shouted and the poltergeist was suddenly both frozen in mid-air, and suddenly terrified._

_The first sign anyone else in the castle had that something changed was Peeves, covered in a bed sheet that'd been turned pink suddenly appearing in the great hall during the leaving feast with flashing flame letters pronouncing him a 'pervy wanker'. Harry sighed as he watched the occupants of the hall laugh at his handy work. It was a good start, but pranks weren't really his thing, though putting the annoying little wannabe-ghost in his place had been fun on a visceral level._

_Feeling a bit better than he had since the end of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry walked back to his dormitory to finish his packing with a little smile on his face. _

_-~-~_

_"Harry, mate, you missed it. Somebody pranked Peeves in the middle of the great hall during the feast," Ron said as soon as he'd found Harry in the entrance hall, waiting for the carriages to take them to the Hogsmeade train station. _

_"That's great Ron," Harry replied distractedly. "You should tell Luna, she wasn't at the feast either."_

_"Right," Ron replied slowly, "I'll…I'll do that Harry. You alright mate?"_

_Harry gave his full attention to Ron, his eyes locking on the blue eyes of his best mate in an unnerving stare. "I'm fine Ron," he replied through an odd smile._

_"Of course you are," Ron agreed, thinking just the opposite. He really needed to find Hermione, because Harry was starting to freak him out._

_Harry's eyes caught something behind his friend and locked on with the same intensity as if he'd spotted the snitch. "If you'll excuse me Ron…" Harry said, and walked off without waiting for any acknowledgement or reply._

_"Lavender, Parvati," Harry called, coming up behind the Gryffindor girls and throwing his arms around them. Though generally uncomfortable with the fairer sex, with his new outlook, such a move seemed natural. "How are the two hottest witches in the castle this fine summer day," he continued, wagging his eyebrows at them._

_"Harry?" Lavender asked in surprise as it took her a moment to identify the young wizard, "are you alright?"_

_"Let's see," Harry replied, exaggerating looking like he was thinking deeply, "it's a warm summer day, we're about to leave on summer holiday, and I'm standing between two very attractive witches." He leered playfully at Lavender, then at Parvati, then at Lavender again, earning him giggles from both girls. "I'm doing just fine now."_

_"Okay," Parvati replied, "it's just that you've rarely ever shown much interest in, well, witches." She gave him a stern look, "even when you were on dates with them. What's with the sudden change?"_

_Harry's smirk returned, and again he obviously leered at her, "I can't just have been inspired by you're beautiful forms?" _

_"No," they answered in unison._

_Harry looked like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, that is to say, falsely contrite. "Well, I've come to the conclusion after very deep thought, that I'm far too serious for my own good and that life is far too short to be so serious. So I've decided to do what I've always wanted to but couldn't, which includes chatting up the prettiest women I know of and seeing if they maybe will let me sit with them on the ride back to London."_

_"Well aren't you charming," Lavender said dryly through a small smile, "What do you think Parv, can we handle such a charmer without losing our knickers?"_

_Parvati caught on that her friend was trying to push Harry's limits a little bit, put him off center and test his boundaries and so replied appropriately, "Lav, you know I don't wear knickers. I don't wear anything under my robes." She made a point of running her hands slowly down her body._

_Both girls were surprised that though Harry's cheeks colored slightly, his eyes didn't follow her hands, but instead seemed to twinkle a bit, "Good to know," Harry said, then muttered loud enough to be heard by both girls "note to self, learn wind charms and find out what kind of knickers Lavender wears." _

_"Confident, aren't we?" Lavender laughed, "I suppose we could deign to tolerate your presence for the ride." _

_The carriages had pulled up while they were talking and Harry opened the door for the ladies, following the pair in and closing the door behind them, not noticing the odd looks Ron, Hermione and Ginny were sending at where he'd been standing._

_Lavender and Parvati made eye contact, having a silent conversation in the way only close friends can, as they had noticed Harry's friends. They kept the conversation superficial with just a little bit of flirting on the carriage ride to Hogsmeade station and until they'd found and settled into a compartment. Once settled, Padma Patil and her best friend Lisa Turpin came along and settled in the compartment as well. _

_Seizing on a lull in the conversation, Lavender and Parvati excused themselves to the bathroom. The other pair of girls, obviously uncomfortable sitting with Harry, made their excuses and left him alone in the compartment._

_Several moments later Lavender and Parvati returned, both a bit more serious than they had been when they left. _

_"Do you think we're sluts Harry," Lavender asked as she and Parvati sat across from him in the compartment._

_"Of course not," Harry exclaimed._

_Parvati looked at him oddly, then nodded slightly, Lavender continued, "so you aren't intending on using the whole 'I don't want to die a virgin' line on either of us?"_

_"No! What do you think I am; a Malfoy?" Harry replied angrily._

_Parvati gave him another odd look and nodded again to the blond. "It's just that you've never much shown any interest in speaking with either of us outside of class or the DA. We know something happened at the Ministry and that's why they are acknowledging that You-Know-Who is back and that you're involved somehow. We know your friends were in the hospital wing and you were really morose and moody, even more so than you had been all year; and now all of the sudden it's like you don't have a care in the world and are suddenly confident and flirty." She pinned him with an intense gaze, "I need you to promise not to spread this around, it's not like it's a big, important secret, but it's important to me that few people know about it."_

_"I promise, but you don't need to tell me…"_

_"I need to tell you, so that you understand why we're worried about you," the Indian girl interrupted. "I have some empathic abilities and can feel strong emotions. You've always had a lot of strong emotions and most of them are overwhelmingly positive, it's actually nice to be near you when you are happy," she admitted with a slight blush, "since you started flirting with us, I've felt a number of emotions, lust, acceptance, and fear chief among them," she explained._

_"What we've figured, and correct us if we're wrong, but we think that something happened that, in a very real way, made you face your own mortality." Lavender picked up from her friend, "your feelings lead us to the conclusion that you've accepted that you're going to die, probably fairly soon, and are going to go out with no regrets and live the time you have left with no inhibitions."_

_Harry blushed at how easily they had figured him out; he was pretty sure that of his close friends, only Luna would have been able to have figured the same thing out._

_"So, that leads back to our first question," Parvati continued, "Do you think we're promiscuous?"_

_"No, I really don't," Harry answered honestly._

_"I know you're telling the truth, and by your own actions you've as much as admitted that we're right about your motives, so why did you pick us to spend time with, if you don't think we're going to shag you?" Lavender asked._

_Harry smiled slightly, "Is it a crime for me to have wanted to spend time with a couple of beautiful women when given the chance?" he asked rhetorically. "I admit, I'm being fatalistic, but I think I have a good reason. I do find you both very attractive and am feeling lust towards both of you, but all I wanted to do was spend some time with some pretty witches and get to know them better. No regrets, remember? I've always regretted that I was closer with every other Gryffindor in our year than you two." He winked at them adding, "I was always a bit intimidated by pretty girls before. Besides, another of my regrets was treating you so shabbily at the Yule Ball, Parvati, and I wanted to try to make up for it."_

_Lavender pretended to fan herself and swoon, "if I did casual, Harry, you might have just talked your way into my knickers."_

_Harry and the pair of witches laughed, "Now, can I spend some time with the prettiest Gryffindor girls there are without further inquisition?"_

_"Not quite," Parvati smirked, "What about Hermione, don't you think she's pretty?"_

_"Hermione's beautiful," Harry answered immediately, "I just don't think of her like that, she's more like family to me; part cool older sister, part nagging mother." He ran his hands through his hair, "even if Ron didn't have a crush on her, I don't think I'd ever really be compatible with Hermione, she likes to be in control, all planning and scheduling, and she has a tough time listening to or accepting other people's viewpoints if she thinks she's right about something. She's so convinced about her own intellectual superiority that she's become arrogant." He paused, and frowned slightly, "Don't get me wrong, I love her as much because of all this as in spite of it, and in now way do I think I'm perfect," he laughed, "I'm moody, short and stubborn. I won't be bossed around and that leads me to being both reckless and dangerous, and most importantly as it relates to Hermione, I don't take my schooling very seriously."_

_Harry's frank and honest descriptions of both his and Hermione's faults, illustrating their incompatibility in a romantic relationship impressed Lavender, Parvati and himself, as he'd never really actively thought out his argument and had only spoken from his heart. In the hallway outside the carriage door, Hermione stood shocked and heartbroken. She'd come looking for Harry, as she was worried about him ducking out on his friends, only to find that the wizard who she had wanted to be with though of her as only a platonic friend, moreover, a bossy, arrogant, controlling platonic friend._

_The rest of the train ride passed much as any other; Harry chatted and flirted with Lavender and Parvati; keeping the conversation light and meaningless. Ron destroyed Neville at chess while Ginny napped and Luna read her copy of the Quibbler upside down, and Hermione sequestered herself into a lavatory; at first to cry, and later to analyze her and try to figure out what was wrong with her, why Harry didn't love her like she loved him._

_Arriving in London, students disembarked from the Hogwarts express, scattering to the four winds with their families. Harry bid Parvati, Lavender and Padma, who had rejoined them midway through the trip, goodbye, before seeking out his friends. He found Ron and Ginny standing with the twins, Bill, Arthur and Molly. _

_"Hey mate, where were you?" Ron asked when he finally spotted Harry._

_Harry grinned at his best mate, "I rode in a compartment with Lavender and Parvati," he answered, "No offense, but sometimes I feel like I need to get away from all the shite we get into, and for once, I did."_

_Ron took a long look at Harry, a smile growing on his face as he saw that Harry seemed relaxed, his smile genuine and his eyes not haunted. "Good on you mate," he answered back, slapping Harry on the back, before leaning in and whispering conspiratorially, "you think you can put in a good word with them for me?"_

_Harry laughed, "I'll see what I can do, but I'm not sure how much sway my word has with them just yet. They don't seem to be impressed by my fame or money." _

_"Well, that means Malfoy's not got a shot with either of them then," Ron replied, "that's all the slimy git has going for him."_

_Arthur Weasley watched the easy byplay between his youngest son and his best friend. He was a bit dubious at Harry's carefree manner, as the boy had recently lost a father figure, but he watched closely and saw no signs of Harry's actions and responses to be faked. Figuring that since Harry was in a good mood, he saw no reason to bring the boy down, and so decided against confronting Vernon Dursley on Harry's behalf. He'd have a chat with Mad Eye and ask the retired auror to stop by later in the evening to have an amiable chat with Harry's relatives so as to not make a scene on the platform._

_Glancing up and seeing his relatives waiting impatiently and glaring at him, he looked around to say goodbye to his other best friend, only to find that she was conspicuously absent. "Mate, where's Hermione at?" he asked Ron._

_"She left almost as soon as we were off the train, she was in some kind of rush too." Ron answered, "Ginny said it was a girl thing, though I don't see how she could know, she didn't talk to Hermione either."_

_"That's…odd," Harry answered after a moment, before shrugging his shoulders. He was sure that his brainy friend had some good reason for her immediate departure. Harry briefly recalled her sheer single-mindedness when she was working on a problem and dismissed her behavior as he pushed his luggage cart to where the Dursley's stood gathered together._

_"No bloody bird, boy?" Vernon asked, looked over Harry's luggage cart and noticing the lack of Hedwig's cage or the owl herself._

_"She's flying home, her cage is in my trunk," Harry answered following behind his uncle as the man had turned and stalked off before Harry even began his reply._

_After loading his trunk in the boot of the Dursley family car, Harry piled into the back seat of the car with Dudley and settled into a contemplative silence for the duration of the journey. This suited his relatives just fine, apparently, as they too were silent until Vernon pulled the car into the driveway of number 4. The four all slid from the auto, and after opening the boot for the boy, Vernon and Petunia retreated into the house, Dudley, however remained outside, smirking at his cousin._

_"Why do you come back here freak?" he began. Vernon had informed his son to try to instigate a situation where he would be justified in kicking the boy to the curb, and Dudley planned on doing just that. "Why don't you go stay with that mass murdering godfather or those redheaded freaks?"_

_Harry ignored the stale barbs coming from his large cousin, pulling his trunk free of the boot and setting it down. There was no point trying to carry it into the house as Dudley was standing between him and the door; so smiling slightly, more to infuriate his cousin than for any actual want to smile, Harry took a seat on his trunk to weather the storm of brilliant Dudley Dursley one-liners._

_"Are you dumb now, you freak?" Dudley asked rhetorically, "heart-broken than your boyfriend Cedric broke up with you?" the larger boy said, remembering how much a similar comment would have affected Harry the previous year._

_"Are you quite finished yet, Diddy Dinkums," Harry replied, "or are you going to treat me to a further demonstration of witty banter?"_

_Dudley frowned, his cousin refused to react to his first salvo with anything more than a mocking acceptance. Upping the ante, Dudley pushed a button that always riled up Harry when he was younger, "your parents must have been pieces of work to have a bloody retarded little wanker like you. Good thing their dead," seeing Harry squirm, he decided to push further, "maybe your godfather should put himself in the ground with them, so you don't disappoint him too."_

_Harry exploded from his trunk in blind fury, the always simmering anger over the loss of his parents, the Dursley's constant belittlement of them and torrents of rage and guilt from his involvement in Sirius death were suddenly all given form. The bones in Harry's hands cracked as with lightning speed his fists began to repeatedly crash into Dudley's face._

_His fierce and sudden attack took Dudley by surprise, as did the power with which his scrawny cousin could punch, but Dudley was the worst kind of bully; one who knew how to fight. After regaining his bearings, he blocked a couple of punches from Harry, and returned a combination jab, straight right, left hook which easily knocked his cousin to the ground. _

_Harry gained his feet almost the instant he hit the ground, his fist rising with his body as he hit the larger boy in the midsection with an uppercut, followed by dropping several punches on the top and side of the doubled over boy._

_With his own growing rage, Dudley lashed out with all of his power, his fist crashing into Harry's ribs, which emitted several audible cracks. Harry doubled over as Dudley took a deep breath, shaking his head to clear it. Now with the obvious advantage, the young boxing champion began working over Harry's obviously injured midsection, several times repeating the feat of causing audible cracks to ring out in the night. After wailing on Harry's ribs, he dropped Harry with a haymaker right hook that sent the wizard sprawling on his back with a mangled nose and one eye rapidly swelling shut, several small pieces of cheap black plastic dug into Harry's face, all that was left of the boy's destroyed glasses._

_Dudley turned to go inside to ice his own injuries and inform his father of the fight, only to hear a wheezing laugh. Turning around, he saw his cousin has somehow gained his feet again, and though he was swaying slightly and his face was covered in bruises and blood, he was smiling and laughing. "Is that all you've got Big D?" he asked, his voice wavering only slightly._

_Dudley turned to fully face his cousin, and immediately began to throw punches once again. His cousin, despite doing nothing to defend against the onslaught of fists, stood and took all that Dudley had, smiling and laughing as he spit up blood. Knocking the deranged and beaten boy down again, Dudley kicked him several times, both in the ribs, and when he made to get up once again, in the head and face. _

_Harry lie on the ground, his body still save for the shallow, labored breaths he took. Satisfied that he'd thoroughly pounded his cousin, fulfilling one of his fondest wishes, Dudley again turned and walked to the house, not noticing the crowd of Privet Drive residents gathered to watch the beating. As he reached the stoop, he heard a sound that somehow chilled him, Harry's wheezing laughter._

_Harry smiled a beaming smile as his cousin went rigid upon hearing his laugh. The effect of the smile was frightening due to the currently mangled state of his face and lack of several teeth in his smile. He walked slowly towards his cousin, his smile growing with each step. "BOO!" he shouted when he was only a step or two away from his cousin. Dudley jumped at the sudden shout, causing Harry to laugh at the completely ridiculous situation he found himself in. _

_In utter disbelief, Dudley turned and looked at his freak of a cousin, who stood, trembling with effort, but none the less, standing, laughing, at him. He'd hit Harry with everything he had, he was exhausted, his fists aching, and the freak was as happy as a kid at Christmas._

_Standing face to face with Dudley, his long time tormentor, a single thought passed through Harry's mind, 'in for a penny, in for a pound.' That in mind, Harry gathered the blood that seemed to be gushing in his mouth into a large ball and spit a liberal amount right into the face of his cousin. The gob smacked look on the large boy made the beating completely worth everything._

_"What is wrong with you," Dudley asked, not bothering to wipe the spittle and blood from his own face._

_Harry smiled at the boy, feeling better, despite the numerous injuries he had, than he had in a long time. Realizing, at that moment, that he felt free, for the first time in over a year, he answered as simply and honestly as he could put it, "I'd rather feel pain, than nothing at all, Dudley."_

_Any further interaction between the two was cut off as the telltale crack of apparition rang through the neighborhood. A flickering blue dome suddenly snapped into existence around the Dursley home and the crowd that had gathered to watch the fight all suddenly realized they needed to be elsewhere and disbursed. Moody tossed off his cloak and surveyed the scene with disbelief, Potter hadn't even gotten his trunk into the house and he'd been beaten to a bloody pulp. Despite the obvious welts, cuts and broken nose on the larger boy, it was clear that Harry had not won the fight by any means. Albus was not going to like this._

_"Tubby, get in that house and I'll consider not removing your left arm, jamming it up your arse and reattaching it there," the retired master auror growled, the tip of his wand glowing with a sinister red light._

_Giving no thought to the fact that a 'freak' had ordered him to do something, and instead realizing that the gnarled older man with the freaky eye had violence on the mind, Dudley's self preservation instincts kicked in and he lumbered into number 4 as quickly as he was able._

_"You alright Potter," Moody asked, surveying the teen, privately surprised that the boy was alive, let alone conscious and standing._

_"I'm fine," Harry answered his grin a match for any that Moody himself could pull off._

_Muttering under his breath, Moody pulled a disk from his pocket and pressed it into Harry's unresisting hands. A moment later, Harry realized that as bad as Portkeys were normally, when one is nursing broken ribs and possible bruised internal organs they are immeasurably worse. Unfortunately for Harry, the combination of this pain and the rapidly diminishing rush of adrenaline led to his crash landing where upon he slammed his head into the emergency room floor, knocking him out cold. _

_"Welcome to St. Mungo's emergency waiting room, what is the nature of your injury?" A voice, the same one from the phone booth entrance to the Ministry of Magic sounded. When Harry didn't answer, it continued, "If you are unable to respond or unconscious, a healer will be by shortly to evaluate you." _

_Five minutes later, a healer sauntered in, looking around at the empty chairs in the waiting room. He was about to leave and give a dressing down to the witch who maintained the emergency controller wards, when he noticed he was standing in something sticky. Looking down he saw that he was standing in a river of blood that led him to Harry's prone and severely injured form. "Bugger."_

_-~-~-~-~_

_After Harry had disappeared, Moody shrunk his trunk and pocketed it and entered number 4 to set things right. Spotting the trio of Dursley's in the kitchen, the woman attending to the boy's injuries and the father alternating between cursing Potter, praising his son for teaching the freak a lesson, and complaining about freaks ordering his son around on his own property, he entered with a loud THUNK, of his wooden leg._

_"Sit down and shut up fat man," Moody growled, grinning darkly at the man. Vernon puffed up his chest until he noticed that both the retired master aurors wand and psychotic eye were steadily trained on him. The Walrus like man made a show of preparing his seat and sitting down as if he had intended to all along. His eyes, however, rarely left the tip of the wand pointed at him. "Good, we'll do this the easy way. Potter is gone, he's not coming back. That means that when I leave here, there will be no magic to power the wards, they'll fall within a couple of weeks." He glared at them, "I recommend you be gone by then. It isn't a certainty that you'll be attacked when they fall, but it's far from impossible. If you want to chance it…" he trailed off, letting his menacing scowl speak for itself. His peace said the master auror walked into the back garden and a crack rent the air, signifying that he had apparated away; the sounds similarity to a gunshot, the second in a short amount of time, was completely coincidental._

_Moody reappeared at the apparition point in St. Mungo's emergency receiving ward, and when prompted by the controller ward, stated that he was a master auror and needed to speak with a hospital administrator immediately. Fifteen minutes later, a well dressed man entered the waiting room and made a show of looking around to spot Moody, who was the only occupant of the room._

_"I have only a few moments to spare for you Auror Madly," the man stated through a sneer, looking down his nose at the heavily battle scarred man._

_Moody fixed the pompous arse with a glare, "I sent in a young kid with a lot of injuries earlier. All records of his being here and his identity are going to disappear. Further, when his injuries are physically healed, he will be released into my custody immediately."_

_"I don't know who you think you are to come in here and attempt to order me around…" the man trailed off as a wand jabbed him between the ribs._

_"I'm Master Auror Alastor Moody," he growled, emphasizing the proper pronunciation of his name, "and if you fail to comply with my __orders__, I'll cut you in half and go about getting my way anyhow. Now, give me your oath, and then take me to my charge."_

_The administrator, feeling a none-too-gentle nudge from the wand currently pressed into his abdomen nodded shakily and led Moody to a secure ward and into a trauma room where three healers, two witches and a wizard, were working over Harry._

_"He's not responding to treatment," the wizard stated in a strained voice as a white light emanating from his wand hovered around Harry's body before coalescing around the infamous scar which seemed to absorb the light as it throbbed as if a beating heart. _

_"Whatever that magic is, it's siphoning off too much of his power. It looks like a deliberately botched runic ceremony. Maybe even an attempt to steal his magical core with the channel here," one of the witches cast another spell, and indicated a displayed vortex surrounding said scar. "I think this is supposed to be Merkstave," she continued, indicating the runic shape of Harry's scar. "I think if we invert it to Eihwaz, we can stop the magical drain."_

_"Aye," Moody called from the door, "He was an experiment alright. Maybe cross Eihwaz with Algiz to act as a shield and to balance them out Uruz for health and freedom and Tiwaz for the sacrifice to seal them in blood."_

_"Four simultaneous runic castings?" the first witch asked, "that's pretty advanced, and not to mention unadvisable in the best of health. Given his condition…" she continued only to be interrupted._

_"We don't have a choice," the first man spoke up, "he's fading fast. If we can't get his internal magic stabilized, we have no chance of saving him." The man turned to Moody, nodding imperceptivity, then said, "You seem knowledgeable sir, could you act as the fourth caster?" _

_"Aye, I've done a four rune casting before, I'll cast Tiwaz and seal it with a sacrifice of my own blood mixed with his," Moody answered, shocking all present. To seal a sacrifice in his own blood would mean that the sacrifice and pain of the ritual would be exacted on him, rather than the boy. It would almost certainly save the boy's life, but at the possible cost of the aurors own life._

_The three healers plus Moody gathered around Harry's bed, each drawing their rune in flames, hanging in the air before them. The first healer, the wizard, directed his flaming rune, Eihwaz to settle over Harry's scar, directly superimposing itself, searing the scar from the boy's forehead. The second healer directed her rune of Algiz to settle over the top of the first, the second witch directed Uruz over top of the other two then Moody directed the flaming Tiwaz over the three other runes that burned into the boy's skin, joining the four together beneath it. He spoke in a strained voice as the four runes began to draw power from him, "Strength, protection, untamed potential, and honor, I sacrifice my blood." He cut his palm while Harry's blood bubbled up over the flaming runes, boiling on the teens forehead. Placing his bloody palm over the boiling wound, Moody incanted "so sealed in blood, take my sacrifice," touching his wand to the center of the boys chest. Harry sat up screaming, his eyes wide and unseeing as an electric green bolt of energy shot from Moody's chest into his head._

_Hundreds of miles away, Voldemort began screaming in agony as he felt something inside begin to boil. His skin crackled and popped and fell away, his veins opened and his blood began to pool beneath him as, like an acid, it burned its way out of his body into a deep pulsing red pool on the ground beneath him. Greatly wounded, the self styled dark lord apparated himself to his chambers as soon as he was able to concentrate through the pain and control of his body. _

_The aftermath of the runic ritual was remarkably unremarkable. After Harry's wild fit of screaming, the boy had again passed out and fallen back onto the bed while Moody had to take a chair for several minutes to regain his strength. The potions already in his system that depended on his internal magic to work began doing what they were intended to all along, mending bone, tissue and organs while the healers began to work in concert with them. Two hours and three exhausted healers later, Harry was nominally healed. He'd have some residual bruising and physical and magical weakness and he would be very sore for a few days after regaining consciousness, but no permanent damage had been done to him._

_Moody asked for, and easily received, privacy oaths from the healers to never speak about what had transpired that day, nor that they had ever treated Harry unless or until such a time as they were released from that oath by Harry or Moody._

_The gruff older man paid for Harry's stay in St. Mungo's under a false identity and transported Harry to one of the many safe houses he had set up around the country. He'd decided that they were going to go off the grid. _

_-~-~-~_

_Over the next two days Harry would occasionally awaken, confused, disoriented and sore, only to pass out once again. It was on the third morning, that Harry slowly swam into consciousness. He groaned as the light that filtered through the blinds shone on his face, before sitting up suddenly as he realized that he was in a room he didn't recognize. _

_The room he found himself in was a largish bedroom; it had two eastward windows covered in wood slat blinds. The light from the sun shone as beams as dust stirred in the air. The room was simple in its decor, with hardwood floors, the twin bed Harry woke in, a bench at the foot of the bed, and a dresser. Harry stood, finding himself dressed in light pajama's similar to the one's he often found himself wearing when in the Hogwarts hospital wing, only these were marked as being from St. Mungo's if the logo and lettering on the breast was anything to go by. _

_Harry was reassured that he wasn't likely a captive when he found his wand, in a holster, strapped to his right arm_


	9. Grandfather Gellert

February 2nd 1982

"Gellert Grindelwald," the familiar voice rang out in the silence of the small courtroom, as always, the underlying power of the speaker demanding attention.

Gellert looked up from his shackled hands at the wizards and witches before him and barely resisted sneering; in particular at what had become of his old friend Albus; now a bureaucrat to the core and the perfect example to Gellert of waste of intelligence, power and above all, potential.

Schooling his features into a pleasant smile, he replied, "Albus, my old friend."

"You have been brought before this body, today, Gellert, in accordance with our agreement for a parole hearing in exchange for your help in providing extensive dark arts knowledge that was crucial in combating the recently fallen Dark Lord Voldemort," Albus spoke, his sapphire blue eyes catching the dark eyes his childhood friend. He continued to speak, but Gellert paid only cursory attention as he heard the man's voice whisper in his mind, 'What do you intend to do, if granted your freedom Gellert?'

As Albus and the other members of the parole hearing debated what to him were meaningless points back and forth, Gellert gently pushed his Legilimency probe back to Albus, answering the unspoken question, 'I am old, Albus; too old to want to try again, even if I wanted to. No. I simply wish to return to my roots; to our roots; magical theory. Forty years have passed, Albus. Forty years of magical advances. I simply wish to immerse myself in magical theory and hope that perhaps I can contribute something of worth before my time is up, and allay some of the enmity surrounding my name in the history books.'

It was a calculated response, one that Gellert hoped Albus would buy. While he did wish to immerse himself in magical theory, and had no intentions of attempting to start another wizarding war, he could care less about his name. His overwhelming drive, power, was as always at the forefront of his mind, but he also, at the advancing age of 140 years old, wished to secure an heir and pass on his knowledge and the tradition of ground breaking magic. Teaching was the one thing about his old friend he could still understand and respect, though as headmaster, he rarely connected with students any longer.

'I want to believe you Gellert, but how can I?' Albus' question was far more direct than he expected, but expected nonetheless.

'I'm sorry, Albus. I cannot give you any concrete reason or satisfactory answer beyond I give you my word,' Gellert replied, then with a mighty push, forced his way into Dumbledore's thoughts for a heartbeat, retreating from the attack even faster than Albus could mount a defense. 'Make no mistake Albus, I can still be a dangerous and deadly foe, but I have no wish to be. I know I have made many mistakes in my lifetime that I can never rectify, I only wish to do what I can with the time that I have, and perhaps, one day, maybe be able to call you friend once again. I wish only for a second chance.'

Several moments passed and it became apparent that whatever it was, Albus had made his decision and their private conversation was over.

"It is my opinion," Dumbledore stated, "that despite his history, Grindelwald's recent assistance in combating the dark lord Voldemort demonstrated that he is a changed man. Certainly 37 years in a prison he himself built have humbled and tempered him. I see only a man seeking a second chance; a chance to redeem himself and his name. I move for his conditional release."

"What conditions do you suggest, Albus," Millicent Bagnold asked, staring at the former dark lord in obvious distaste.

"I suggest that Grindelwald be confined from international travel for a period of 5 years. In addition, I propose that he be required a semi-annual interview for the same period, to see how he is adjusting to life as a free wizard and to monitor his behavior and activities. After the 5 years, periodic checks every other year for the next decade. Breach of any of the following conditions would be grounds for termination of probation and the reinstatement of his life sentence, to be served in Azkaban," Dumbledore said gravely.

It was a harsh suggestion for the man famous for giving second chances, and while worse than Gellert had hoped for, freedom was freedom and he could easily deal with these conditions if it meant escaping his own personal hell.

Bagnold sneered once again, and looked at the other members of the 5 person council, "do you all concur?" The minister asked condescendingly.

Dumbledore nodded his approval of the terms and was quickly mirrored by Minister Elect Cornelius Fudge who was unable to agree with the Mugwump any more quickly.

Warden Egon Burkhard stared hard at Gellert for a moment before quietly saying "aye," and leaning back, seeming almost relieved to be rid of the former dark lord.

French Minister François Bertrand, like Fudge, quickly agreed, leaving only Bagnold to vote. With four votes for parole, the writing was clearly on the wall and his vote itself was moot, as only 4 votes in favor were needed to grant his freedom. Nevertheless, he spoke as if deciding the matter on his own, the mark of a long time politician, "So be it, Gellert Grindelwald, I hereby grant you parole under the aforementioned terms and call this hearing to a close," He banged a gavel once, and stood. "Mr. Burkhard, see that he is given his possessions and released."

"Sir," Grindelwald spoke for the first time, "I'm sorry sir; in what country shall I serve my parole; perhaps near Durmstrang?"

"I'm afraid not, Gellert," Dumbledore spoke, smiling slightly, "I do believe that you shall be calling Britain home for the next several years. I do believe that Bathilda still resides in Godrics Hallows and would be willing to offer you a room until you are able to facilitate your own home." After a pause, the Supreme Mugwump continued, "You are, of course, welcome to visit Hogwarts at any time."

Gellert carefully hid his grimace of distaste. Perhaps Dumbledore becoming a bureaucrat had one upside; he thought, as the man had certainly learned how to twist the knife; throwing the reminder of his flight from that very home some 125 years earlier, denying him access to the wonderful library of his alma mater and reminding him that all academia in England ran through him all at once.

His thoughts turning away from this, Gellert considered his options. He had little doubt that the room in Godrics Hallow had not changed since he'd left it more than a century prior; he doubted anyone short of Dumbledore or perhaps the so feared Flight of Death he'd heard so much about could defeat his childhood wards anyhow. This would allow him access to an unacceptably small library, though; he admitted it was full of rare tombs. He had little doubt that his Great Aunt's library would be huge, but utterly useless to him.

"Thank you, Albus, you are very kind. I shall have to take you up your offer to visit the most renowned library of Hogwarts," He replied aloud.

The hearing concluded a few moments later and less than an hour later saw Gellert Grindelwald take hold of a portkey transporting him to Godrics Hallow. He was once again free; free to continue his studies, free to delve back into the dark arts with renewed vigor and free to seek his revenge against Albus Dumbledore.

He hadn't seen much in the man's mind when he had surprised him, but he had seen that his thoughts centered on a child; or rather The Child; the one who had unwittingly defeated the previous dark lord. Gellert figured that if he was important to Albus as he believed him to be, the last thing his old friend would want would be the influence of a semi-reformed dark lord on the young savior. It was just too tempting not to do.

As he settled in to his old room, Grindelwald was unsurprised to see that he had been correct, no one had breached his wards in over a century and there had been only a single attempt shortly after he had initially fled.

Pouring himself a glass of firewhiskey he had stashed that now qualified as aged firewhiskey, he had his first drink as a free man since the 1940's and began to plot his next move.

July 31st, 1982

It was the little brat's fault, this being his birthday and all, Petunia thought to herself furiously as she drove Harry and Dudley home from the daycare center. Really, she'd only left them there today so that she could attend her book club, an activity she had been unable to engage in since Dudley's birth. But for them to insinuate that her perfect little Diddy Dum's was a bully. At 2 years old! A bully at 2 years old that was so unruly that they banned him from the daycare. Preposterous!

So wrapped up in her own thoughts of how to blame this on the boy, Petunia didn't see the middle aged blond man standing in the middle of the road until she nearly ran him over. The sudden jerky stop rattled both boys, causing them both to begin crying. If she would have been capable of objective observance, she would have noticed that Harry merely cried out from being startled, and then quickly calmed down, while Dudley was throwing a tantrum that grew larger and louder by the moment.

The man in the middle of the road whipped out a stick and pointed it at the car. Petunia recognized what that meant and quickly attempted to accelerate around or through the man; she didn't have any particular leaning other than to avoid damage to her auto. But just as quickly as she hit the accelerator, she released it and a euphoric calm settled over her.

Memories of the boy and his time with them arose. His freakish, unnatural acts; locking him in the cupboard; the letter he was left with, the conversation with the old man after the boy had blown up the cupboard with his magic, and finally memories of her dratted sister and brother in law.

Grindelwald was confused, as he had the muggle direct her carriage out of the pathway. Albus had placed such importance in the boy, this was evident not only from the memories he had gleaned from the headmaster, but also from the memories of the muggle about her interaction with him. Sure, the boy was a half blood, but he was obviously powerful, as Dumbledore had been forced to bind his magic. He deserved better, it was his birthright as a superior being to these Muggles.

The wards Dumbledore mentioned in his letter would be problematic. Well, not for somebody of Grindelwalds caliber, but it would be far too obvious it was he who circumvented them, should he decide to do so. No, he needed a solution that allowed him unfettered access to the boy.

His curiosity was peaked now, as the boy was both powerful, and capable of surviving the death curse. His goal of corrupting the boy to his way of thinking became a secondary concern as he cast several diagnostic spells upon the scar.

August 31st, 1991:

Harry fell into his bed at number 4 Privet Drive exhausted. Grandfather Gellert had worked him unrelentingly right up until their last moment together, before the portkey brought him home.

He nearly snorted at the thought of the Dursley's Hovel as home; it was nothing of the sort. Grandfather had explained to Harry when he was just barely old enough to understand that these Muggles despised him for being different, for being better than they were, but that he had enchanted them to ignore him as much as possible.

It was not the ideal solution, but Grandfather had explained many times that the blood wards surrounding the home were strong, and though not unbeatable, Grandfather could not legally take Harry, nor could he risk being discovered 'interfering' in Harry's 'normal' childhood.

So, for as long as he could remember, Harry would sleep at number 4, wake, take a portkey to Godrics Hallow and begin his studies under Grandfathers stern hand. Grandfather Gellert had said numerous times how disappointed he was that Harry did not naturally understand magical theory and Arithmancy and had to work at them.

Though the man was difficult to please at the best of times, Harry's intuitive grasp of performing magic, particular with charms and especially the dark arts were viewed as acceptable. It was not until he was 10 years old that Harry realized he was beyond the level of his peers in his studies, his Arithmancy and Charms work nearly equal to O.W.L. level and his Dark Arts knowledge superior to most adult wizards.

Tomorrow, he left the Dursley's for his first year at Hogwarts. Grandfather Gellert had instructed him, finally, that many of the classes would be rudimentary at best for his level, but that perhaps going over the theory again, now that he understood more about magic and how it worked in practice may benefit him immensely. Grandfather had advised him that many would look to him as a prodigy, savior and scapegoat and that he needed to either immediately live up to his reputation as a hero, and always do so as the Headmaster did after defeating Grandfather, or shock the world and become an Anti-Hero.

Harry was more moderate than his Grandfather, but had no wish to model himself after the powerful, but foolish headmaster either. Harry had chosen long ago to do the unexpected; keep his head down, disappear from view as much as possible and rely on his mind and his wits to see him through his formal education.

The next morning, September first, Harry awoke, wondering at the fortuitous nature of September 1st falling on a Sunday so that classes could start the morning following the students arrival, but shook off the thought, putting it down as chance. It had to happen some years.

At precisely 9:45 AM, Harry felt the telltale pull of the portkey Grandfather Gellert had made for him, and he and his trunk were pulled along the magical currents and deposited safely on Platform 9 3/4. Picking up his charmed trunk, Harry hustled onto the train and began searching for a compartment.

A group of rowdy older boys, Gryffindor's if he had to guess, came barreling down the corridor, forcing him to sidestep them, and into a compartment occupied by a set of dark skinned twin girls.

"Uhh, hi," Harry said intelligently, but quickly regained his wits. Despite not having much call to practice them, rarely interacting with anyone outside of the Dursleys and Grandfather Gellert, he was taught the importance manners, and so continued, "Terribly sorry to intrude, it was unavoidable. Might I sit with you, if there is room in your compartment for me?"

The twin dressed in a pink robe spoke first, "You talk funny," she declared before getting up and brushing passed him and into the corridor.

"Don't mind her," the other twin, who was dressed in her Hogwarts robes already, offered, "anyone who doesn't speak airhead, fashion and gossip talks funny in her estimation. Though to be fair to my sister, you did sound a bit over the top."

Harry flushed slightly, but held his head high and met her eyes, "sorry about that. I haven't really had much occasion to interact with people my own age, or really, people who aren't family, well, really ever."

"It's alright," the girl replied, "You're welcome to stay," she added.

"Thanks," Harry responded, quickly stowing his trunk, before sitting down across front the girl.

"I'm Padma Patil," she stated, holding out her had to shake.

"Harry Potter," Harry replied, taking her hand with his, and instead of shaking it, did as Grandfather had instructed, and kissed her first knuckles, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Padma's blush was slightly visible despite her darker skin tone, "over the top again there Harry," she squeaked before her eyes suddenly widened and she jerked her hand back from him. "You're Harry Potter?" She whispered.

Harry rolled his eyes; Grandfather had warned him that people might react to him like this. "Yes, I'm Harry Potter, yes, THE Harry Potter," he stressed sarcastically.

"Sorry," Padma answered, her tone making it impossible for Harry to tell if she was being sarcastic or sincere.

"It's alright, I was sort of expecting it," Harry replied, deciding on sincere, "are we going to do more of a you're famous conversation, or can we move back to comfortable, casual conversation?" he asked easily. While he appeared casual to Padma, inside he was hoping she wouldn't turn out to be one who was unable to get beyond the awe of meeting somebody famous. It might have been because she was really the first person he'd talked to or because he had already started thinking of her as a friend, he wasn't sure.

"It's alright Harry," Padma stated, "I'm not going to go all flighty on you, drool and demand autographs and pictures...my sister on the other hand," she giggled slightly, "Well, no promises."

Harry breathed a slight sigh of relief, "So, Padma Patil," Harry started, noticing that the train began pulling away from the station, "What house are you hoping to get into?"

"Oh, Ravenclaw," She answered promptly, "I'm not the brave type, so that leaves out Gryffindor, I think I'm loyal, but then again, I think my sister is a silly bint, so I don't think I have quite the temperament for Hufflepuff, and I'm not cut out to be a Slytherin."

"Oh," Harry responded simply, "Why aren't you cut out to be a Slytherin?"

Padma scowled slightly, "I'm a half blood and I have no interest in the dark arts," she spat heatedly.

"So," Harry answered matter of factly, "I'm a half blood, I'd be fine in Slytherin and half of the students in our year have parents that are or were death eaters and I'd be fine. And not all Slytherin's practice the dark arts; they require patience and skill that not all Slytherin's possess."

"You practice the Dark Arts?" Padma shrieked, quickly backing away from Harry.

"A little louder, I'm not sure they heard you in Dublin," Harry responded sarcastically, "and there is nothing wrong with practicing the Dark Arts. How else are you supposed to know what you need to combat?" he posed challengingly.

"But the Dark Arts will consume your mind and soul and you'll grow to be insane and evil," Padma answered in a small voice.

"Absolute rubbish and ministry propaganda drivel," Harry supplied, "My grandfather Gellert has been a Dark Arts Practitioner for over a century and he is neither mad, nor evil," he defended, "well, maybe a bit mad, but so is Dumbledore; who I might add is a master of the Dark Arts himself, so I'm told. But that isn't the point."

Padma looked on at Harry, her eyes wide and disbelieving, though she appeared to be reluctantly listening to him, "The Dark Arts are all about intent. Many spells, curses, charms and what have you can be used in just as evil of a way as the dark arts can be. Certainly, there are some parts of the Dark Arts that you cannot practice without what you've said about them being true, these are what Grandfather calls the Black Arts, magic that is irredeemable. This magic in general is torture, murder, human sacrifice and so on, but the dark arts are better classified as combat magic, in general, and most Aurors, Hit wizards and Unspeakables are experts in them."

"Say I believe you," Padma answered, "say that there really is a difference between the Dark Arts and the Black Arts. Have you studied the Black Arts? Have you practiced them?" She queried.

"Study, yes, practice, no," Harry replied succinctly. "Grandfather wanted to make sure I knew exactly where the line was, so that if I ever choose to cross it, I cannot say I did it out of ignorance."

"Your Grandfather's attitude is not exactly reassuring," she said, no longer recoiling from Harry, "but I understand it, I suppose. It's about taking personal responsibility for your choices and actions."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "Grandfather isn't much one for subtlety, but he gets his point across."

"Back to the point," Padma exclaimed, "What house are hoping for Harry?"

"Well, they all have their merit, I admit, but I honestly can't see me as a Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. And given the choice, I think I'd prefer Ravenclaw," Harry reasoned aloud.

"Well, at least we'll have 1 friend in our new house," Padma said with false enthusiasm.

"I think we will," Harry answered more solemnly.

The remainder of the trip was spent talking about magical theory, quidditch, runes, and getting to know one another. Amid the long conversation there were several interruptions; a toad hopped into the room, through the slightly ajar doorway, a white haired boy and 2 gargoyle looking boys peeked in, a bossy girl with bushy brown hair and a round-faced boy came after the toad, and the snack cart lady stopped provided them a few treats.

When they arrived at Hogwarts, they were led by what had to be a half giant down a steep, winding path, to a small fleet of flat bottom wooden boats moored at the lake edge. The self propelled boats ferried them into a dark cavern to an underground dock. They were led up a stairway to a large door where the half giant knocked loudly on the door, nearly knocking the door from its frame.

A tall woman with dark hair pulled up in a severe bun answered the door.


	10. History

"Oh look, Malfoy can learn," Harry stated as the blond Slytherin peaked into the door, sneered and turned to leave. Draco turned around, opening the door to the compartment upon hearing Harry's taunt.

"Improving company, scarhead," he said, staring contemptuously around the full compartment, "a pair of pureblood wogs, a pureblood slag and a pureblood squib. Surrounding yourself with purebloods doesn't make you one, half-breed."

"Draco; you bring up an excellent point for debate," Harry stated, "the definitions of blood status now, versus those that existed before the muggleborn Grindelwald changed them. Did you know that prior to Grindelwald, a pureblood was defined as a wizard or witch who was born with no living muggle relatives; the generally accepted definition of this when premature death of prior generations was involved was 3 generations. Full blood was defined as a wizard or witch born to a wizard and a witch regardless of their parents magical heritage. Half-blood was a term used for children born of a magic user and either a muggle or squib or born of two squibs. Muggleborn, of course, hasn't changed."

"What are you talking about Harry," Padma asked, interested, despite her dislike of blood politics. She was a Ravenclaw and knowledge was power, and Harry's knowledge seemed both genuine and interesting. Malfoy even looked interested, despite himself.

"Let's start with Slytherin, who by today's standards would have been a half blood," before Harry was interrupted, he pressed on, "his parents and grand parents were all magical, but his great grand parents on his mothers side were all muggles. This is documented fact if anybody bothered to research it, there's a book in the Hogwarts library by Rowena Ravenclaw that profiles each founder and their background." Harry looked around for objections, but seeing that even Malfoy seemed content to listen, despite looking skeptical, he continued, "The important point in this is that Slytherin was considered a full blood in his time and, until about 80 years ago, would still have been considered a full blood. Grindelwald's rise started in the early 1900's, and he, like Voldemort, drew on the economic and political power of the old magical families. His then secret goal was to destabilize the magical governments enough to where he could take them over one at a time as a dictator, and so he began to sow discord, by encouraging the narrowing of the definition of pureblood to include only 5 generations of genetically pure wizard; a muggle idea by the way, and fullblood to what used to pass as pureblood. He also lobbied for laws to keep only those pure in power."

Harry paused to take a drink of pumpkin juice, "he worked different ministries throughout Europe and after about 30 years, was successfully able to start a rebellion and civil war in Germany and Austria as the lower class rose up against the purebloods and demanded equality. His plan was successful as he led his supporters against the broken ministry and crushed the rebellion. He ruled as a tyrant for several years before Dumbledore assassinated him and a force of wizards and witches from Western Europe took control of his puppet government and rebuilt it into the independent body it is today."

"Late in his reign, Grindelwald hoped to expand his power throughout Europe as the muggle's of Germany were, and so he began a propaganda campaign to bring people to his cause. Wizards throughout the countries seeded with his propaganda began preaching his idea's as fact, though they were unwilling to risk the power they had to be overthrown by Grindelwald later. After Grindelwald fell, Tom Riddle, now known as Voldemort saw the genius of the campaign in the lasting effects that spread across the world, and decided that he could manipulate the same class of people in the same way, fashioning himself a champion of the purebloods and binding them to him as his servants when it was too late for them to turn back. So, the war we have now over blood purity is really over ideals created by a muggleborn and championed by a half-blood, both of whom espoused such beliefs for their own ends."

Harry stood and approached Malfoy, his eyes and face suddenly expressing fury and a promise of pain, "Now, Draco," he growled, "I believe that you owe everyone in here an apology, and then you can be on your way."

Malfoy stared at the implacable look in Harry's eyes and decided that discretion was the better part of valor. "I'm sorry," he mumbled before quickly darting out of the compartment, deep in thought. Silence pervaded as Harry retook his seat.

"And you got a D on your History O.W.L.?" Padma asked incredulously, breaking the silence and the tension in the air.

"Well, I wanted to see if there really was a T grade," Harry answered with a smirk, "I took a nap during the test without answering any questions, so I think I can definitively say, there is no such thing as a T."


	11. HPSG1 the first

"Are you sure this is going to work Bill?

The redhead looked up from the massive pile of parchment covered in arithmetic equations and runes from dozens of different cultures, and scowled. "What's the harm in trying if it doesn't, Harry?" He growled, "Those fucking ships have destroyed Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, Hogsmead, Godrics Hallow, Ottery St. Catchpole…Do I need to go on?"

Harry grimaced at the man's tone, and snapped back, "No, I'm fully aware we're probably the last two British wizards alive. It's just that if this wont work then I want to get out there and kill every Jaffa and Goa'ould I can before they get me; join one of the resistance groups and throw these fuckers off our planet!"

"There's no point staying here," Bill answered in a defeated voice, "what you are talking about is prolonged suicide."

"And what you're talking about is running away!" Harry shouted in reply.

"Harry," Bill said, his voice stern, "we've been through this. This will work," he held up his hand in a placating gesture, "I know the costs will be large, but I don't think there are many left alive in Cairo that wouldn't willingly do it; and I can't pull it off, I don't have the raw power."

"Fine," Harry replied petulantly. He'd had this argument with the master curse breaker and mentor a dozen times and it always ended the same. For forms sake, more than any real want to rehash the point, he pressed, "what happens to us?"

"You know the answer to that question, Harry," Bill responded wearily, "I don't know for sure, but the two most likely scenario's are we die or we somehow are pulled through the dimensional rift and end up Merlin knows where."

"At least it will take out all of those bloody pyramid ships," Harry sighed.

"That's the point," Bill said, his grin hard, but somewhat resembling the one that had often wooed witches and women alike out of their knickers.

"You ready yet?" Harry questioned, smiling at the annoyed look that flitted across the redheads face.

"Yeah, let's do this!"

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

On the command Hak'Ta currently docked at what was regionally called the great pyramid, the first prime of Sokar surveyed the lands of the Tauri now conquered by his god. A flashing light on the control panel before him alerted him to a spike in the ambient energy levels in close vicinity to the ship yard where his, the command ship and two dozen other mother ships hung in the sky over the desert city that had housed the majority of the invading Jaffa army.

"Jaffa Kree!" Sokar commanded from where he sat surveying reports on the transformation of the once lush planet into a new Hades.

"My lord," the golden tattoo'd warrior said what would be the last words he ever spoke.

Moments before and far below, hidden from direct view by several wards Bill had cast around them and the now ruined Sphinx monument, Harry Potter's phoenix feather wand shattered at volume of magic being channeled through it. A small sphere of golden shimmering light appeared before the pair.

"Harry, now or never!" Bill shouted and bodily pushed his would be little brother, apprentice and only remaining living friend through the golden portal, diving in behind him. A moment later the golden sphere collapsed with an unremarkable pop. Silence reigned in the now empty area for several long seconds before a torrent of energy exploded outwards too quickly for any eyes beholding it to even register the golden color.

Sokars army, his fleet of Hakta's, his command ship, the pyramids, Egypt and most of northern Africa, the middle east, and the southern half of Mediterranean, simply disappeared in the backlash of magical energy, leaving behind only an enormous crater. Harry Potter and Bill Weasley had rid the Earth of the majority of the invaders in one fell swoop, bringing hope and a chance at survival to the surviving groups around the globe.

An indescribable distance of time and space away, Harry and Bill fell from the sky and landed in a jumbled heap.

"Bloody hell," Harry groused pushing the lanky redhead off of him and sitting up.

"Well, I guess that answers the question of what happens to us," Bill said with good humor, followed by a groan at the aches the trip and fall had imparted on him.

"Bugger," Harry cursed. Before Bill could question him, the unfortunately familiar sound of a lot of automatic weapons preparing to fire rang through the suddenly quiet room.

Bill looked away from his protégé to see they were cornered with two rows of men, dressed in military fatigues, holding said automatic weapons, trained on directly on each of them. "Umm, we come in peace," Bill said in an uncertain voice.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

General George Hammond sighed as he finished reviewing the security tape from one of the science labs where a pair of British young men dressed in robes of all things and armed only with a few knives and a couple of sticks had inexplicably appeared. The pair had numerous injuries, not entirely earned from their graceless entrance to the base; if Dr. Frasier was to be believed, they had seen some sort of combat recently. It was up to him to determine just what to do with the infiltrators of the most top secret American Military institution in the world.

The General's thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the particular red phone situated on his desk. "This is Hammond," he answered, then listened for a moment, "Yes, Mr. President. I understand sir." Again he was silent, listening, "We'll be ready for him sir." The line went dead immediately thereafter and the General hung up the phone.

His attention returned to the security tapes, reviewing them once again, wondering just how much of a headache dealing with the pair was going to be and how the president was aware of their arrival when it hadn't yet been reported. Regardless of the how, the Commander In Chief had told him that a civilian liaison for issues of the sort from the IWC was on his way to the mountain and would be arriving within the hour and was to be fully briefed on the gate program when he arrived to deal with the intruders.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Xander Harris groaned as he slammed down the phone. Eight months! It'd been eight months since Sunnydale! Eight months since he was told he was too close to the edge to be useful! Eight months since he was cast aside, and now, Giles calls from London and orders him to Colorado by way of Wiccan Teleportation to act as some of ambassador for the Watchers Council.

He'd just finished pulling on his suit jacket when a flash of white light in the small living room of his apartment heralded the arrival of his transport. He was only slightly surprised to see that his ride would not be courtesy of Willow, but rather a young man he had never seen before.

"Mr. Harris, sir," the young man asked in a British accent, and without waiting for Xander to reply, continued imperiously, "Mr. Giles sent this letter and package. He advised me to allow you to read the letter before transporting you to Colorado Springs. Further instructions are contained within."

"Great," Xander replied, snatching them from the young mans hands and tearing open the envelope.

**Xander:**

Dear boy, it has been entirely too long since we have spoken. I do apologize for the distance between us, and admit that it is very much my own doing. 

**After the collapse of the Hellmouth in Sunnydale, it was decided, without my input, that **_**normals**_** should be kept out of the fight as much as possible. This decision was spearheaded by Willow and Buffy and targeted almost entirely at you in a misguided attempt to remove you from the action for your protection. Regardless of the reason for their actions, however, we, the Watchers Council, have need of your help. More importantly than that, I'm asking you for your help.**

**Twelve hours ago, there was a magical surge the scale of which has never been recorded in history. My sources have told me that coinciding with that surge, two beings arrived from another dimension. The complication of this matter is that they arrived in a top secret American military base.**

**I cannot trust Willow to remain objective due to the advanced scientific research performed at the base, she is much too likely to become overly involved with the project and that could lead to disaster. Further, I cannot trust Buffy around a secret military operation due to her past actions and inability to see the world beyond her love life. I might be willing to trust Faith for this mission, but due to the sensitive nature of the facility, her past would be an issue. So of the very short list of people I trust; it's down to you to perform this task.**

**  
When you are ready, Cedric will transport you to a hotel in Colorado Springs where a room in your name has been secured. At noon, local time, a military transport will arrive and transport you to the base where you will be briefed on the situation with the interdimensional beings as well as the base's operational details. **

**Your primary objective is to discover the intentions and abilities of our magical visitors. In order to help facilitate this mission, I have provided Cedric with a Merlin's Sphere for your use, simply have each of the visitors touch the sphere and record their results. As a baseline for comparison, Willow scores around a 500. **

**Secondarily, I would like for you to consider remaining on at the base as the permanent IWC liaison. Your primary duties for the ICW would be to let us know if slayer or magical support is ever needed, though they may have additional duties for you to perform. I believe this could turn into a most interesting position.**

**Your friend,**

**Rupert Giles**

**Council Head**

**International Council of Watchers**

**PS. The ICW and thus you as our representative have full military security clearance and the direct support of the President of the United States of America**

Xander growled under his breath at the though of his friends once again pushing him out of the fight. Though he had suspected that this was the case, he hated to have it confirmed. He was tired, too tired to fight against them pushing him away, and so he left willingly, and now, here was Giles asking him for help.

"Alright," he said wearily, "lead on McDuff, let's go."

In a flash, Xander found himself standing alone in a hotel room in Colorado. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table and began heading to the lobby. "Boy Giles, you sure cut it close."

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

A little over three hours later Xander sat, stunned, half of him wanting to curse Giles and the other half wanting to hug his erstwhile mentor. Aliens, wormholes, ancient civilizations


	12. A Link to the Past

"Are you okay?" The soft feminine voice asked from somewhere directly above him, yet seemingly a long ways away. Breathing deeply as he struggled to wakefulness, the familiar and unique scent of grass, forest, lake and magic filled his nostrils. Hogwarts was the only place in the world that smelled like this, late in the fall as the leaves turned colors and the temperature began to drop. He must have fallen asleep by the lake again and Ron and Hermione just left him to rest.

Ron! Hermione! Conscious thought and the memories of the past assailed him and Harry jumped to his feet drawing his wand and falling into a combat stance immediately, his eyes frantically searching out any threats. He found before him a slight girl with long messy black hair, brown puppy-dog eyes and a startled expression struggling to draw her wand to defend herself. Trying quickly and failing to apparate, Harry dove to the side as he raised a shield charm around him.

The young girl tracked him now with her wand out, here eyes wide, but steadily taking in his actions. Silently Harry sent a barrage of non-lethal curses at her, his goal to incapacitate and question her. A moment later found Harry standing over the petrified, blinded and bound girl holding her wand. His eyes swept over the landscape; leaving him gaping as his eyes caught up to his nose in realizing that he was at Hogwarts. But this wasn't Hogwarts as it was, the castle was whole, the wards hummed, the grounds were lush and the forest stood unburned; even Hagrid's hut seemed untouched, as if someone had reversed time.

Absently releasing the girl with a wave of his wand, he fell onto his backside, stunned and confused.

Just as she had when she first found him, the young, dark haired girl stood over him, this time however, she had her wand in hand, pointed unwaveringly at his heart. "What the bloody hell is your problem?" Her voice was much more harsh than it had been before, "and who the bloody hell are you!

Harry was too far gone, lost in memories of pain, loss and betrayal to comprehend her words as he sat and stared at the castle.

"Bollocks!"

A few minutes later Harry was startled back to lucidity when his body impacted awkwardly with something hard. "Bloody hell!" he said loudly, startling the girl who had been floating him up the castle stairs.

"Oh, sorry about that," she said offhandedly as she cancelled the levitation spell, forcing him to twist in the air to avoid a painful landing.

The ache from where he'd been bashed into the stone stairway and his annoyance at the girl for her carelessness, or revenge he considered, pushed his mind back into the realm of active. Sitting down on the steps, he sighed slightly, muttering about fate and life conspiring to throw him into ever increasingly dangerous, stupid or inconvenient situations at every turn.

"You too huh?" she asked with some minor amusement before sobering, "So what's your story?" she asked, looking at him warily, her wand still in hand.

"I wish I knew," Harry replied honestly, "one minute I'm asleep somewhere else, and now I'm suddenly at Hogwarts, only it's not…" he trailed off, then suddenly asked "What year is it?"

Raising her eyebrow, she told him.

"Bleeding 1994!" he railed loudly, before looking at the sky and uttering a long stream of curses upon whoever he was in a past life for dicking up his karma as much as they had. Cursing done, he felt a bit better and looked over at his companion, smiling somewhat sheepishly, "it helps."

"Who are you?" she asked curiously, lowering her wand slightly.

"You're kidding right, you don't know?"

"No, who are you, I really don't know."

Sighing Harry pondered whether to tell her the truth or not, "Come on, you know who I am," she chided, "It's only fair I know the name of fate's other bitch."

Harry laughed a little, but frowned more as he looked her over. He had a niggling feeling that he did know her, but he couldn't place from where, his confusion obvious to her, she pulled her hair back, revealing a very familiar lightning bolt scar on her forehead.

"Fuck," it really was the only appropriate response. Shaking his head, Harry looked at her again and started seeing things he didn't want to, brown eyes and hair that, while long, were particular to a man he had seen enough pictures of to have memorized and a lithe build that reminded him all to much of the brown eyed man's companion.

"That's not usually how people greet me, but it's still an improvement over all the fawning and ooohing," she said jokingly, then held out her hand, "Violet Potter."

Harry gently took her hand and shook it, smiling slightly in spite of the situation, "Harry Potter, nice to meet you."

"Pppotter?" she stuttered, "Are we…related?" she asked hopefully.

"That's a tough question to answer," Harry replied, before evasively changing the subject, "Wicked scar you go there by the way."

Regaining her composure, she answered, "It's okay I guess," flattening her bangs a bit to hide the scar.

Harry looked around and found that they were pretty much alone where they were and leaned closer to her, "It's nice to not be alone," he whispered, brushing back his fringe and showing off a mirror image of the curse scar.

Her eyes went to the scar, back to his face, back to the scar then went really wide. "But Dumbledore said I was the only one…is that a curse scar," she finished suspiciously.

"It is," he said seriously, "Fate has it in for both of us," then added humorlessly, "but I think I win this week."

Violet responded to this by raising an eyebrow and snorting at him, "I've been entered into the Tri-Wizard Tournament as the fourth champion, am being forced to compete against my will and most of the school believes I'm an attention seeking bitch," she said in a morbid 'beat that' voice.

Harry just smiled sadly at her and shook his head, "I'm not sure exactly what happened to me, but I do know that I dueled and killed Voldemort then woke up here in the past, for me, in what I can only assume is another dimension where He has yet to be resurrected, let alone defeated." Shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation he muttered "Damned magical oaths!"

Violet was a bright girl, despite what some said and she quickly put together what Harry had just said with his comment about them being related, his name and his scar, then her eyes went wide, "You're…you're me? Like from another dimension where I was born a…you?" she said half in confusion.

"Maybe; dimensional traveling and magic always gives me a headache," he said to himself, "When's your birthday?"

"July 31st," Harry nodded as if he expected that, "1979."

"Yeah, wait…1979?" She nodded, "I was born July 31st 1980! We're not the same person from different dimensions…I don't exist in this dimension and you didn't exist in mine."

"So what does that make us then Harry?" she asked in trepidation.

"I guess we're kinda like family, but not really," he answered slowly, "at least it seems like some things didn't change…I had to compete in the tournament too…right before Voldemort was resurrected."

Having been shocked far too often as of late, Violet reacted to this news by looking up at the sky and cussing out fate, destiny, magic and Aberforths goat, in a similar manor to what Harry had done moments before. When she'd finished, she blushed slightly at Harry and said, "you're right, it does help." The pair sat in awkward silence for a few moments, making no move to enter the castle, nor retreat from it.

Eventually Violet broke the silence, "So, Dumbledore then?" Resignedly, Harry nodded, all the while trying to figure out just how much to tell the old man about his future.

Before he'd made any concrete decisions about what to say, the pair found themselves in front of the headmasters Gargoyle.

"Lemon Drops," Violet said and without slowing, walked right through the now open hallway and up the stairs. Harry, decided at that moment that a second chance was exactly what he needed. Given the information on Voldemort from his own dimension, he was going to do everything within his power to end the threat before it began, fate, the time stream and whatever other forces of nature dictated existence, be damned!

A slow smile appeared on his face, he had a younger sister, kind of, since she was born the year before him, in an alternate dimension. The smile became a smirk as he realized the implication of this, because if he'd learned anything from the Weasley's, it was their motto: What good is a little sister if you don't tease her, beat any bloke who looks at her, and generally be a pain in her arse. That thought in mind as he ascended the stairs towards the headmasters office, he casually cast several spells to mask his aura, make him invisible and completely silent.

"Ahh, Ms. Potter," Dumbledore's voice rang out as the pair entered the room, he paused for a microsecond and frowned slightly before the expression was gone once again, "What may I do for you today?"

"I was out walking by the lake when I came across somebody lying, unconscious," she looked over her shoulder to where she felt Harry standing and was visibly startled to not see him. "Harry?" she called out, moving to the door and looking down the stairway before moving back towards the headmaster. "I'm sorry, he was just behind…" she trailed off as Harry's head appeared just above the headmasters shoulder, grinning a Cheshire grin at her. "There," she said pointing at him, only for his head to disappear before Dumbledore could even turn around. He appeared over the other shoulder as the headmaster was turned away from him and stuck out his tongue at her before once again disappearing.

"Are you feeling alright Ms. Potter?" Dumbledore asked carefully, "You've had a stressful few days with all of the excitement of the tournament and being thrust into the middle of it."

"No," she exclaimed in frustration, "He's here; he's just invisible right now." She growled as Harry again made his head appear floating just above Dumbledore, "I'm not crazy!" she demanded, the tone of her voice changing from exasperated to desperate causing Harry to stop his fun immediately, or most of it.

"She's right," he whispered into Dumbledore's ear, "I'm just invisible." This revelation had two effects. Violet scowled at him, and Dumbledore jumped from his chair, drawing his wand. Harry reappeared, smirking unconcernedly at the both of them.

"Hi," he said to Dumbledore casually, "I'm Harry Potter, the boy who lived, dimensional traveler, two time defeater of Tom Riddle, the man who destroyed his seven Horcruxes. You may know me as Link, the heir of the Marauders; then again, you probably don't as I suppose I'm a Link to the past." Harry snickered at the pair as they both stared at him wearing identical dumbfounded looks on their faces.


	13. Occlumency Changes the World

_'Bloody Hell!' _It was the first coherent thought Harry Potter had had since staggering from Professor Snape's torture chamber of a classroom.

Harry had endured several Occlumency lessons now at the hands of his hated Potions Professor and not only had learned nothing, but the dreams about the mysterious corridor had become more frequent. He also now constantly sported a headache and his nerves were frayed and emotions out of control. He had resolved before that night's lesson that if he didn't have any sort of breakthrough he would start looking for a way to learn Occlumency on his own. That time had now come.

Begging off as exhausted upon seeing his friends after entering the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry headed straight to his dorm. He removed his invisibility cloak and the Marauders Map from his trunk and pulled the hangings around his bed. As Snape had released him just barely before curfew, it wasn't long before his housemates began started heading to bed. Harry waited patiently for half an hour after his dorm mates had bedded down before donning his invisibility cloak and heading for the library. With the map and cloak, it was ridiculously easy for him to avoid prefects and professors and he soon arrived at his destination.

Upon arriving in the library Harry headed straight for the Restricted Section, figuring that since Occlumency was a rare form of magic and its counterpart Legilimency was potentially very dangerous it was the most likely area to have any information. Pulling off his invisibility cloak and setting it and the map on a nearby table, he lit his wand and began his search.

Having learned from his first foray into the area during his first year, he knew better than to randomly pull books from the shelves. Hermione had, with much exasperation, taught him a spell used to search through a Magical library, and as such, he took a small piece of parchment that said _Occlumency _on it from his pocket and cast the search spell upon it. Setting the scrap paper against the first shelf he was to search, he watched impatiently as the paper slowly crawled like a worm across the spines of the books. When it got to the end of the first shelf, Harry picked it up and moved it to the next shelf where it repeated the painstakingly slow process. The spell's original purpose was to search through the library catalog, rather than directly across the shelves, but Harry didn't know if the Restricted Section even had a catalog let alone where to look for it.

Several hours later, his bookworm had found mention of Occlumency in three books. The first had stated _Occlumency: see Legilimency_ while the referenced entry stated _Legilimency: see Occlumency._ The second book had defined Occlumency as the defense of the mind against outside influences, but had contained no further information. The third and last book he found, however, looked very promising. _Looking Within: A Practical Guide to Internal Magick_was an old and worn leather-bound book. Briefly flipping through the pages Harry noticed that it contained several potentially exercises and definitions at first glance.

_Occlumency is often referred to as the defense of the mind from Legilimency. While this is true, the art of Occlumency has many more uses than simply shielding one's mind. A properly educated and determined student of the art can not only block a determined Legilimency attack, but also can negate any outside influence on their mind, be it from love potions, truth serums, memory charms or even possession. _

Hand written in the margin in decidedly feminine script was a note that Occlumency was only partially successful in fighting the effects of Veritaserum and the Imperius curse.

Tucking the book under his arm, Harry tossed his invisibility cloak over his head, checked the map to make sure his path back to the dorms was clear and returned to Gryffindor tower.

After waking up the grouchy fat lady portrait to let him in the tower, Harry settled down in his favorite wingback chair, magically stoked the nearby fireplace and cracked open the book. Flipping through the pages to where he had found the initial information about Occlumency, he was disappointed to find that the information and practical guide referenced much information from earlier in the book, meaning he would have to read the entire thing rather than just the section that interested him. A twinge in his head and echo of emotion not his own reaffirmed his dedication to his project and he turned the book back to page one.

_Magic is in us all the time. An obvious statement for a witch or wizard, but far too often a fact that is taken for granted. This book will teach you about the many wonders of how magic works within your body and how you can use it._

Despite his initial misgivings about having to read the entire large volume, Harry found himself immersed in the text. He read about how he could learn to use his internal magic to protect his mind and more; possibly even learning how to use magic without his wand, instead focusing it through his touch.

-~-

"You're up early Harry," Hermione stated as she sat down across from him, "what are you reading?"

Harry looked up from his book, blinking owlishly. Glancing around the room, he could see daylight streaming in the windows and maybe a dozen students milling about preparing for their days, "Bugger!"

"Harry, language!" Hermione chided.

Grunting in acknowledgement of her scolding, he sheepishly explained, "I haven't been to bed yet."

"You've been up all night?" Hermione questioned in concern, "was it…did you have another vision?"

"No," Harry replied, "No nothing like that, I just got caught up in reading is all." Hermione looked skeptical at this pronouncement. "Really, I just stopped by the library to pick up a book to help with my lessons with Snape."

"I've already looked through the library," she replied, "There weren't any books on…" she trailed off, "Anyway, unless they were in the Restricted Section." Understanding lit in her eyes, "Harry!"

"He wasn't teaching me Hermione," Harry defended, "I've learned more in one night of reading than in all of my lessons with him." He held up the book like a shield between them, "the way he's teaching me would eventually work, but there are better and safer ways to learn."

"Safer? Just how is he teaching you Harry?" Hermione demanded.

"He's trying to force me to develop and immunity like I did with the Imperius Curse, but the way he's doing it causes migraine headaches and erratic emotions in the short term and in the long term it can cause problems with long term memory and psychosis," he explained.

"You'll have to let me read that book Harry," Hermione stated.

"When I'm done with it," Harry answered and before Hermione could reply, he let out a large yawn. His focus on the book broken, he became acutely aware of just how tired and stiff his body was, though his mind seemed mostly awake thankfully. "Let me put the book in my trunk and grab my stuff and we can go to breakfast then," he offered and not waiting for her acquiescence, he stood and retreated to the 5th year Gryffindor boys' dorm.

Walking into the dorm, Harry ran into Ron who was just getting out of bed himself, "You're up early," the redhead commented.

Harry groaned before explaining his night to Ron as the pair joined up with Hermione and headed to the Great Hall for breakfast.

-~-~-~-~


	14. The Breakup

"Ron," Hermione said, as she settled down near where he and Harry had their heads together, working on Quidditch plays. "You really need to study; N.E.W.T.'s aren't that far off and you need to do well," she continued as she pulled out her Transfiguration essay and began to work on it.

"NEWTS are over a year from now, Hermione. Sixth year is supposed to be a slack year where we decide what we really want to do in the future and start to specialize on it." Ron replied turning his full attention towards Hermione.

"Well of course you know what you're doing in the future Ron; you're going to work in the ministry. I'm sure you can get an entry-level position in the department of international magical cooperation right out of Hogwarts if you get your grades up a bit." Hermione replied as if talking to a small child.

"I don't think I want to go into the ministry after school. I was thinking of trying out for the Cannons and if I don't make it, maybe…"

"Well of course you're going into the ministry," she began as if he had not said anything, "you wouldn't want to end up in a dead end position with no prospects of advancement like Fred and George."

Ron's face clouded over as he had been about to say that if all else failed he could always buy a stake in Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. He was furious at Hermione after hearing this. He had always known she was presumptuous to a high degree, but to have decided his future without his input, put him off.

It had been a long known fact in the Weasley family that Arthur was in a dead end position in the ministry and would not be able to advance any further. The Weasley patriarch was happy enough to forgo his desire to work more directly with muggles in order to support his family. They all knew that was where his heart really lied.

Arthur Weasley wholeheartedly supported his son's in whatever they endeavored to do, be it curse breaking, dragon handling or opening a joke shop, so long as they were happy. Ron respected his father a great deal for his sacrifice; he did not want have to repeat it for his family. "I see," Ron finally said tightly, "I don't have a say in this then?"

"Well of course you do; what department would you want to work in?" Hermione replied in a placating voice, her eyes never leaving her homework. It never occurring to her that her cavalier attitude on the subject was infuriating him. Should she have looked up, she would have recognized the danger signs indicating that he was extremely angry.

"Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to work in the ministry at all; that I may have a dreams or aspirations of my own?" Ron said, barely restraining from shouting the question.

"You cannot honestly believe that you are a good enough Quidditch player to make a career out of it Ronald," she replied irritably, finally looking up from her homework; she missed the hurt look on Ron's face as she glanced around the common room to see if anyone was watching their argument. "Besides, even if you were, what happens when you are too old to play? What then Ronald, how will you support your family then? Will you go test products for your deranged brothers or beg Harry for money or a job? You need to think ahead, I will not sit back and watch you..."

"Decide for myself what will make me happy in life?" Ron said in a deadly whisper. This was enough to stop Hermione's tirade cold and force her to actually look at Ron for the first time.

"You don't get it Hermione," he said with no friendliness in his voice. "You don't understand what has worth as much as you do when you are poor. I've grown up poor, I accept being poor, and I can live with myself if I'm always poor, so long as I do something that makes me happy. It's that happiness that is worth something to me; not money, not fame, freedom and happiness. That's the main value my parents have instilled in me. Mum may gripe about Fred and George's joke shop, but she is pleased that they are doing something they love. They are not, contrary to what you believe, failures; not in my eyes, not in my families eyes and certainly not financially. I may not have a plan for my future, but I can think of worse things to end up, than manager of a WWW store."

Hermione was blown away. She had never seen Ron so passionate about anything. Despite that, she was not about to give up on her dreams for him; it was for his own good. "Certainly they have had a bit of success, but in the long run..."

"For the supposed smartest witch at Hogwarts, you are surprisingly stupid." Ron yelled at her, finally losing the battle with his anger. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the indignant screen Hermione gave at his outburst, he spoke again, his voice low but obvious in the anger it held, "we are very different people Hermione. I'm glad to find this out now, though, rather than after we consummated our relationship in any way. I can't change who I am, and more importantly, I won't change who I am." He turned and began walking away from her, ignoring the stares of all of Gryffindor tower, who were standing slack mouthed watching the spectacular row.

"Don't walk away from me like that Ronald, or we are finished," Hermione shrieked, her stubborn streak telling her that she was not wrong; that he was not looking at it logically. Ron simply shrugged slightly as he exited the porthole.

Harry, who was steadfast in his refusal to take a side in any of the countless rows his two best friends had had, was shocked by Hermione's behavior and her attempt at dragging him into the argument. Already not on the best of terms this year, Harry met her eyes, pleading for reassurance, before shaking his head and leaving the common room without a word to Hermione. He recognized Ron's anger for what it was, and realized that Hermione's need to be right and stubborn streak may well have ended more than her relationship with Ron, but their friendship besides.

Not sure of where to go or even if he should seek out Ron, Harry thought about how he would feel after a very public break-up, after a fight that may well have irreparably damaged a long standing friendship. It was as he considered how he would feel that he realized that Ron would want to be alone, and Harry was inclined to grant that to his friend.


	15. The Offer

The summer after her fifth year at Hogwarts started as normally as ever before. Hermione's parents picked her up from Kings Cross, took her to an early dinner at a restaurant in London to celebrate her return from school, and then returned home. After her father had deposited her school trunk in her room, he had left her alone to unpack her things and settle in as she was wont to do.

An hour later, desiring some company, Hermione decided to join her parents in whatever they were up to. Walking down the stairs, she found the last thing she expected and nearly fainted in fear; The Dark Lord Voldemort was sitting at her dining room table drinking tea and having a civil conversation with her parents.

Not having been spotted, she froze and listened as her father instructed the former Hogwarts head boy in ways one could use dentistry as a means of torture. The faint feeling returned and her legs wobbled beneath her before giving out and she stumbled, drawing attention to herself.

Voldemort stood, quickly crossing the room and assisted her into a chair opposite the one in which he'd previously sat. Retaking his seat, he spoke, "Miss Granger, it's nice to make your acquaintance."

Terrified that the man before her would kill her or her parents or worse, Hermione was unable to muster a response.

"Hermione," her mother admonished, "I know we've taught you better manners than to ignore our guest."

"No, Ophelia, it's quite understandable," Voldemort gently corrected, "after all, given my reputation, she no doubt believes I am here to kill you all." Turning to Hermione, The Dark Lord raised his wand, "I swear on my magic, that while in your home as a guest this evening you will come to no harm from me or those who serve me unless we are provoked."

"I don't understand," Hermione finally was able to respond after Voldemort's oath.

"Of course, allow me to explain," The Dark Lord offered, "Despite the propaganda surrounding my reign and the Death Eaters, I do not now, nor have I ever espoused the supremacy of so called pure blooded wizards and witches. After all, am I not a half blood myself?"

"Yes, but I was under the impression that few were aware of that fact," Hermione answered as steadily as she could, only marginally more comfortable knowing that the evil wizard would not immediately attack her. She remained eminently conscious of the fact that verbal provocation of any kind may be enough for the man to decide he was justified in a violent response.

"That's hardly true, though again, I can understand your impression given the sources of information you have on me," Voldemort replied, "many of my followers are well aware of my origins. Moreover, nearly half of my sworn Death Eaters are half bloods themselves."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir," Hermione stated, biting her lip and hoping she wasn't about to die, "could you please inform me why you are telling me all of this?"

"To the point then," The Dark Lord replied in a disturbing parody of Dumbledore, "I have come to give you the opportunity to join me as a member of my inner circle. Before you answer, allow me to explain the benefits of such an arrangement. First, you and your parents will be granted my personal protection both from my own servants and from those of the Ministry and Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. Second, if you ask it of me, I shall extend that protection on a limited basis to anyone whom you can assure me will not betray my trust, including Potter provided you are able to convince me of his intent. Third, you will no longer be held back by the constraints of Hogwarts curriculum catering to the worst examples of wizards and witches, but will be given the opportunity to flourish and reach your true potential. Forth, you will be given the opportunity to affect real, lasting positive change in the Wizarding World. While I do not share your sentiment for House Elves, I can agree that a willing servant is far preferable to a slave."'

"Why me," Hermione asked, trying to find a downside or loophole in the man's words, "and what assurances do I have that you aren't lying now or wont betray me at a later date."

"I see why the hat put you in Gryffindor, Ms. Granger," Voldemort replied, "given what you must believe of me, it was indeed brave of you to ask such a question. To wit, I offer the following: In 1981, Severus Snape came to me, having heard the first part of a prophecy that proclaimed my downfall at the hands of a great enemy. Naturally, I took steps designed to prevent such an occurrence. While I take no pleasure in killing children or the defenseless, I do not value them so much as to risk my life or my cause so that they might live. Ultimately, my decision set the very string of events into motion that led to my downfall." Despite his inhuman appearance, Hermione was able to read regret in his expression.

"For years I lived as a disembodied wraith; capable of little else, I became introspective of my methods and goals," the man continued, "and in the interim, Dumbledore and his disciples twisted my stated goals into the pureblood mania that it is today. In actuality, my goals are the proliferation of the Wizarding world and preservation of our individual cultural identity. For millennia wizards prospered, however in the last few centuries, particularly since the partial segregation of our world from that of the Muggles, our society has stagnated, lacking an identity and a purpose in the world. One of my main goals was to affect the complete segregation of wizard-kind from the Muggles."

"So you don't hate Muggles, you simply want wizards to exist independently of them?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"Oh, my hatred for Muggles is real enough, though I find your parents to be quite intriguing." The man answered with a glance at the silent pair listening to their conversation. "I was raised in a similar environment as Potter; hated and mistreated for something beyond my control; by the time I was 8, I had cultivated their hate into fear and thusly the power to protect myself."

"So, back to my question then, how does that story allow me to take you at your word?" Hermione pressed.

"I apologize, Ms. Granger, I tend to wax poetic when speaking of things I'm passionate about," The Dark Lord answered. "Due to the nature of the ceremony I used in my return, all of my thought and introspection was forgotten. I lusted for blood, for power and for action, never realizing that the information I was privy to filtered through several bias sources before reaching me. These things, in combination led me to rash action and incorrect assumptions. It was only after possessing Potter that the instability in my soul settled by the stability of his. I have since been able to step back, as it were, and see the whole of the picture."

"You've had a change of heart," Hermione scoffed, forgetting for an instant that the man across from her could kill her and her parents with little effort or remorse.

"Watch your tongue," Voldemort hissed, his eyes burning into hers. "Richard, Ophelia, would you please excuse us?" He requested politely, his gaze never leaving Hermione. When her parents had left her alone with the most dangerous wizard in recent history, he continued.

"Understand that while I may be here to offer an olive branch, I will kill you in an instant should you not afford me the proper respect." Finally breaking eye contact he continued, "You are not living up to Albus' declaration that you are the smartest witch of the age, so allow me to explain it as I would to a Goyle. I am now in full control of my mental faculties, whereas in the past when you have encountered me, I was not. I will win this war and I want to limit the casualties; particularly of those who are intellectually and magically gifted. I want to build the Wizarding World into something great, as it was in the past. You can trust in my vision and desire for a legacy, therefore you can trust me when I say that I would regret having to kill you."

"What of those among your supporters that want to exterminate Mudbloods like me?" Hermione questioned defiantly.

"Those of any true value to me know, or will learn that my way is the only way or they will find themselves as my enemies," The Dark Lord smirked as he read her mind, "that includes the likes of the Malfoy scion. He is among the many who's biased information has set my cause back."

For what seemed like a long time, Hermione sat in thought, considering what the wizard before her was offering. She realized that he had played to her intellect, to her ego, and to her emotions. Still, he was dangerous and evil; a monster.

'I see that you are not yet convinced,' Voldemort's voice intruded in her thoughts, 'allow me to show you what your reality is and what your future will be both in my victory or defeat, if you turn down my offer.'

Hermione saw her family home burning, her parents dead, Harry, Ron, Neville, all of her few friends being cut down one after another; none of them living past 20 years old. The scene reset, this time she saw her struggle against an unjust, corrupt ministry, she saw herself passed over time and again because of her blood, she saw herself holding small meetings of Muggle-born and half-blood wizards. She felt it as her elder image grew jaded and hateful; resentful of Harry's fame and Ron's blood opening doors that would never open for her. She saw herself dawn an identity similar to that of Voldemort only to be struck down by Harry; who's skilled rivaled those of Dumbledore, while her future self, despite years of struggle and study, was not his equal despite knowing she was intellectually superior to her former friend.

"It doesn't have to be that way," Hermione whispered as The Dark Lord laid bare all the deep fears about the Wizarding world and her future that she'd refused to acknowledge.

"Tell me how it can end another way, Ms. Granger?" Voldemort questioned earnestly, "tell me how much credit you will get, should Potter defeat me, even if all he does is stand where you tell him to and act as bait. Tell me how victory by either side will change the inherent bigotry and corruption in the Ministry. Tell me how the most brilliant witch of the age overcomes her blood status in a world that will always treat her as a second class citizen?"

"Dumbledore will," she began.

"Dumbledore will not live to see the end of this war, he knows and has accepted this fact," Voldemort interrupted, "after his demise, society will look to their new champion, Potter. How will your friend cope with the pressure and expectations. How long until the demands of a position he is ill prepared to fill force him to comply with the status quo?" The Dark Lord smirked, "he may even offer token support for some of your causes in an effort to appease you, but he is ill prepared to effect real change through no fault of his own."

Voldemort paused, awaiting her response. When it didn't come, he continued, "think, girl, what happened after my first supposed death? What changed? Dumbledore is far more capable of affecting change than Potter will be for a century or more and he was still unable to change things to his liking. Unwilling to use his power to reshape society for the better; a sentiment he has masterfully forced upon your young friend, I might add. Had Potter desired, he could have destroyed me at the graveyard. He is equally unaware of the power he wields and how to use it."

When Voldemort had finished speaking, the fantasy image of the Wizarding World Hermione had built up in her mind crumbled and she wept for the loss. Regardless of what she now chose, her eyes were opened to the bleak possibilities in her future. Casting about for anything to prevent herself from giving in, she seized on the one person who'd helped her make it through the challenges of the Wizarding World. "You keep saying Harry has this power, could you help him to bring it out and use it?"

"If you arrange for a meeting between us, if you wish it, I will offer to do so," Voldemort replied with a smile. "I cannot guarantee anything beyond that; the effort must come from Potter. As a show of good faith, if you accept my offer, I will extend my protection to include him until after our meeting."

"When we win, I will be treated as an equal and judged solely on my merit?" Hermione asked.

"You will," Voldemort answered, "but know that your position in my inner circle will not afford you special treatment. Anything you achieve or fail to achieve shall fall on you."

"Will I have to torture and kill people," she asked with trepidation.

"This is war, after all, so yes, it is very likely you will be called upon to kill enemies of my cause; potentially including those you consider friends. But I will never ask you to torture anyone." The Dark Lord revealed, "terror is a weapon that we will no longer require when we are victorious. I do not begrudge my servants that take pleasure in torture, as it is something I myself enjoy."

"What about after the war," Hermione pressed, "at the end of the war, that same terror could insight and fuel resistance, or even civil war."

Voldemort smiled, "You are correct, thus its use will be reigned in and used as punishment and a deterrent. The sheep will know that we will not be hesitate to torture or execute the deserving."

"Will you build upon the current ministerial laws or create entirely new ones?" Despite with whom she was speaking, rights and laws had always been her passion and she found herself excited to be party to rebuilding a judicial system, "what about impartiality of the court and how will we combat corruption in the ministry."

"That," Voldemort interrupted, "is why I am recruiting you. Few of my servants care much for what the ministry will become; their only concerns are their own pet projects and prosperity."

"As you continue to call them your servants, will you be setting yourself up as the minister, or something more like a monarch?" Hermione questioned.

"Emperor Voldemort, has a nice ring to it," the man admitted.

"What are your goals for after our victory," the girl questioned, "do you want to oversee the day to day workings of the administrative and judicial system, or are you more picturing presiding over something like a Wizarding parliament?"

"May I assume that you have made your decision?" The Dark Lord asked.

"Yes," Hermione stated, "Do I call you my lord, or..."

"My lord is appropriate, for now," Voldemort answered, "extend your arm." Hesitating for only a moment, Hermione complied, baring her forearm to her new liege. The Dark Lord pressed the tip of his wand against her flesh, she hissed slightly as she felt as if she'd been poked by a needle. When the wand was pulled away from her flesh it left the dark mark behind. "As your current position as a student and a source of information within Dumbledore's ranks, your mark will only be visible to others who are marked; and then only if you willingly bare your arm to them."

"Thank you my lord," Hermione stated, hoping it was an appropriately respectful response. Despite her minor uncertainty, she now felt completely confident that the wizard across from her would not simply kill her if she somehow slighted him.

For the next hour, Voldemort informed her how the dark mark worked, her current, very limited, role among the death eaters, and the different methods of how to send information based on its sensitivity and urgency.

Just before excusing himself, the wizard waved his wand over her, removing the trace and informed her that her tutor would arrive the following day. Then he was simply gone, despite the anti-Apparation wards that were supposed to protect her house.

Realizing that she could do magic without consequence, she cast the standard ward detection spell and found the wards the Order had placed completely intact and a new ward somehow tied into her Dark Mark. Regardless, she realized her lord had just traversed supposedly impenetrable protections without any visible effort.

Deciding that, should circumstances permit, she would discover how the Dark Lord had accomplished such a feat, she turned her mind to other preparations; specifically recruiting Harry. Despite her skepticism regarding the topic of Divination, she felt the arrival of Hedwig at that moment was a good omen.


	16. Power

It was a pleasant evening in Surrey where number four Privet Drive was located; the final rays of the sun were fading away into darkness and the sky was cast in dark purples and blues. Harry Potter trudged slowly through the hidden paths and back alleys of the estate, as he made his way home from the Mooby's fast food restaurant where his Uncle Vernon had secured him a job, insisting the boy was old enough to pull his own weight. Harry was grateful for the tedious work of washing dishes and bussing tables as it kept him from dwelling on the dark thoughts about power and helplessness he had been having since _that night_.

The feeling of helplessness that permeated his being as he stared down the wand of the Dark Lord was horrible and the more he thought about it, the more he thought on it, the more he realized that the feeling foreign to him, more like how he felt during and after each of his Occlumency lessons with Snape than any time he previously had faced danger and death.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks for a moment as he realized exactly what had caused him to freeze up; he had been manipulated, again! He railed at himself, at his weakness and failure to learn to protect his mind. He didn't fault himself for his efforts with Snape, as he knew the man had not done anything to really prepare Harry to protect himself, but he did blame himself for his failure to follow through and learn, if only to spite the greasy git.

As he was plotting on how to learn to protect his mind and to fight as Voldemort and Dumbledore had in the lobby of the ministry, he turned down the alley on Magnolia Crescent and for the second time in a short while came to a complete stop.

Down the alleyway he spied his Order of the Phoenix issued guard, Mundungus Fletcher, engrossed in a rather loud argument with a shady wizard the young man recognized as Mr. Borgin of Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley. A slow smirk spread across his face as he listened to the pair haggle over the price of several stolen items they were dealing with.

In the past, Harry would have shaken his head and walked away, leaving Mundungus to peddle his wares. He may have taken advantage of the otherwise engrossed wizard and gotten away from everything for a few minutes. Today, however, Harry had made the decision that he would not be one of those too weak to seek power, and he recognized the potential benefits of the situation.

When Mr. Borgin had Apparated away, Harry casually strolled into the alley. "Nice evening, isn't it Dung?"

The crook jumped in surprise, spinning to see the young wizard approaching him, "Oh, 'Arry, ya startled me," he said, his body language betraying nervousness.

Harry smiled at the man, "So," he drawled, "you got everything worked out with Mr. Borgin?" His smile widened for a moment at the gobsmacked look that comment drew from the older man, before his face lost all expression. "Don't bother trying to deny it," he added warningly, "I wonder, did any of that stuff happen to come from Grimmauld place?" he calmly finished.

Dung sighed wearily and ran his hand down his face, "Whaddya want from me 'Arry? A bloke's gotta make a livin'." Harry continued to look at him, obviously content to wait the older man out. "First them twins, then you?" he said to nobody in particular. When Harry continued to stare at him impassively, the man seemed to change, he stood taller, and his eyes seemed to clear. In the most sober sounding voice Harry had heard from the man, he asked, "What is it that you want, firewhiskey? Gillywater? Nuddie Mags?"

"Nothing quite so trivial," Harry drawled in his best impression of Severus Snape, "I want you to be my ears to begin with. You are in a unique position where you get to hear a lot from both sides, and what you know, I want to know." Mundungus expression was stone as Harry continued, "You can move around in the shadier places that I can't. Get things I can't, and have contacts happy to tell the Ministry to piss off. In short, I need access to all of your resources."

"That's an awful lot of trouble you lookin' to be gettin' into; might be easier for me to jus fess up to Dumbledore an' let him know what you are tryin' to get up to."

"It'd be a shame if say, Lucius Malfoy, somehow learned that you're a member of the Order of the Phoenix, wouldn't it?" Harry's voice was positively frosty, as he growled, "Don't mistake me for some schoolboy making idle threats." A moment passed where the two stared at each other, neither flinching nor backing down. It ended when Harry began smiling at the older man. "It does neither of us good to continue our little pissing contest, it'll end badly for both of us, so here's what I propose. I pay you, you provide me with what I ask for, no questions asked by either of us, just business."

"I can live with that," Dung blurted out.

"Good!" Harry smiled genuinely, "First, I need to know what the Order is focusing on right now, and I need to know any time they talk about anything to do with me or the weapon that was in the Department of Mysteries. I need a way to bypass the decree for underage wizardry…" he trailed off, "it might be easier for me to just give you a list."

"That's well and good, but we ain't talked about payment yet. The information will cost you 80 galleons per update."

"If the information is worth 80 galleons, I'm not going to pay you if you report that Molly mentioned me and Ron in passing or something and just happened to be at headquarters when she said it."

"I may be a scoundrel, but I ain't gonna try and pull that on you. Get me yer list next time I'm on duty, I'll go over it and give ya a price list. Now, I ain't workin' on credit and I doubt you got a truckload of galleons stashed away in that house, so if I were you, I'd be thinkin' about how ye're gonna pay me." That said, the man threw his invisibility cloak over himself, getting in the last word in the conversation. He may have been a scoundrel but he was not an idiot.

When Harry arrived back in his room at number four Privet Drive, he finally released all of the tension he'd felt and fell boneless onto his mattress. He had been bluffing Mundungus about revealing his role in the Order and he was pretty sure the older man knew it too, but in the end Harry felt that they had both managed to capitalize on the situation, now he needed to figure out what to look for and how to unobtrusively get access to his vault to pay for it. It was times like these that he wished he were as studious as Hermione and could learn from books, he knew, however; that he learned best by doing and that complicated things.

Another complication was his lack of available money. He reasoned that as muggles had many ways to get access to their money without going to the banks, there must be some way to do the same in the wizarding world. Since galleons were quite cumbersome to carry around in large amounts, sending Hedwig to pick some up was out of the question; still, there had to be a way for a wizard to have reasonable access to their money.

His mind made up on a course of action, he roused his snowy owl from her from slumber, "Hedwig, I need you to deliver a letter for me to…" he paused, thinking for a moment, "Bill Weasley." Bill worked at Gringotts; Harry figured that Bill would be able to get his letter where it needed to go. Said owl cocked her head and hopped from her perch onto Harry's desk and looked at her wizard expectantly.

_Bill_

_Can you get this letter to whoever is in charge of my accounts at Gringotts? If there isn't anyone who fits that description, could you look at this and possibly answer my questions for me._

_Thanks_

_Harry_

--~--

_Gringotts Bank_

_Potter Account Manager_

_As I am unfamiliar with who manages my accounts, if they are actively managed by an individual or group, I apologize in advance for not knowing the proper way to address whoever reads this letter, be they goblin or wizard._

_  
I have several questions about my Gringotts account(s), and they are as follows:_

_Do I have any accounts or vaults, other than vault 742 at any Gringotts branches?_

_May I get a statement listing all of my assets?_

_Are there any restrictions on any account I may have at Gringotts? If so, what are they?_

_Is there a way for me to get access to some of my funds without visiting a branch such as cheques, debit cards, or any other such conveniences?_

_Do I have any income from my holdings, interest or otherwise? If so, can I get a statement listing the last year's worth of activity pertaining to this income?_

_My Godfather, Sirius Black, recently passed away. Is there anything I can or need to do to help to settle his estate?_

_Does Gringotts offer any sort of monthly reporting of banking transactions? If so, may I be sent details on this service, or if it is a free service, be enrolled in it?_

_Thank you_

_Harry James Potter_

--~--

The next day Harry received his reply, a rather thick packet of high quality parchment.

--~--

_Mr. Potter _

_Thank you for contacting Warren and Barlow Inc. Below is the information you requested about your finances and Gringotts._

_Your trust account (Vault 742) is one of three accounts that you have. The others are your parents' personal account and the business account for Potter Holdings. A statement on your balances and transactions follows as requested._

_Account Balances:_

_H. Potter: 5,000 Galleons 0 Sickles 0 Knuts_

_J. & L. Potter: 35,802 Galleons 15 Sickles 1 Knuts_

_Potter Holdings: 3,183,991 Galleons 4 Sickles 11 Knuts_

_Recent transactions_

_H. Potter:_

_+1444G 27K transferred from Potter Holdings_

_+141G 4S 17S Annual Interest Payment_

_-86G 8S 11K Customer withdrawal_

_-1500G Hogwarts tuition withdrawal _

_J. & L. Potter:_

_+702G 8K Annual Interest Payment_

_Potter Holdings:_

_+1546G 14S 8K Converted from Muggle Cheque; WB Brokerage House_

_+418G 14S 8K Gambols and Japs_

_+87G 1S 25K Oddment Gizmo's_

_-42G 2S 2K Charming Charms_

_-152G 27K Transfer to H. Potter_

_+56G 6S 6K The Leaky Cauldron_

_-500G Werewolf Research fund_

_-500G Werewolf Outreach program_

_-6,945G 18S Warren and Barlow Inc._

_+800G 15S Portkey Journeys_

_+8,500G Currency Exchange_

_As to your question about restrictions on your account, there are none on any of your accounts, it is your money to do with as you please._

_There are no methods for you to obtain Wizarding Money without visiting a Gringotts branch first to set up that service. _

_An account could be set up for you to access muggle money, should you so decide, though the interest rates in the wizarding world are far superior. If you are interested, you would need to visit our office inside of Gringotts to sign some paperwork and inform us of the amount to convert into muggle money._

_Your family's investments have been diligently maintained in both the muggle market, handled through WB Brokerage House, a subsidiary of Warren and Barlow Inc. and in the wizarding market via Warren and Barlow Inc. You are part owner of several businesses including Gambol and Japes, Oddment's Gizmo's, Charming Charms, Portkey Journeys and The Leaky Cauldron._

_Mr. Blacks affairs were handled promptly by Mr. Remus Lupin._

_We shall begin sending you quarterly statements on each of your accounts by owl starting at the end of this quarter._

_In the future, should you wish to contact us, an owl sent directly to Warren and Barlow Inc. will reach us. In addition, please feel free contact me directly for any financial or legal questions or issues._

_Sincerely,_

_William Bligh _

--~--

Daunted, but feeling more confident than ever before, Harry began planning ways to get to Diagon Alley as quickly as possible. His first thought was to appeal to Molly Weasley telling her that he needed to go shopping for Ginny's and Hermione's birthdays, however that idea was scrapped as there would be too many people involved as well as the possibility that the woman may want to accompany him to his vault or go herself to save him the trouble.

The next idea he considered was creating some sort of diversion, slipping off in the confusion and catching the Knight Bus. Though the idea of '_accidentally'_ burning down Privet Drive with a Weasley Wildfire Whiz-bang was greatly appealing as a distraction, the ultimate consequences of the Order mobilizing to find a missing boy-who-lived would bring far more attention to his absence than he wanted.

He could play the sympathy card with Remus the next time he had guard duty, but the idea of playing on the man's already frayed emotions about Sirius seemed a might bit too distasteful so soon after his godfathers death.

Harry ran through the other guards he was aware of that were regularly on duty. Neither Kingsley nor Mad Eye would consent to take him to Diagon Alley. Mundungus might, but doing so would put his reason to be in contact with Harry in jeopardy if they were caught. That left Tonks as his potential accomplice. He had four hours to come up with a reason for the Auror to take him to the alley. Drawing on what little he knew of her and of women in general, an idea slowly began to take shape.

-~-

Harry waited quietly inside Number four until he was sure Kingsley had left and Tonks was on duty, and then waited another half an hour, rehearsing in his mind all of the different scenario he had planned for. It was a new feeling, making a plan with contingencies; not having to make things up on the fly; and he liked it.

Dressed in some of his most oversized, and somewhat warn clothing he made his way out to the back yard, hands in his pockets, quietly calling out "Tonks," every few feet. He knew where she was, since she never took a different position and didn't bother with silencing charms.

If someone were actually to try and attack Harry on her shift, he had little doubt she'd be dead before she even knew what was happening. That was the problem when somebody didn't approach a job like this with the proper attentiveness. Harry only knew Moody or Kingsley were on shift by luck, as he found that if you look long enough and have no fear of being discovered looking, you could eventually find anybody who was trying to follow you. He absently made a mental note to mention her inattentiveness to Moody if she didn't go along with his plan, finding himself strangely at ease with the idea of manipulating her and punishing her if she failed him.

Finally, he approached her, continuing to pretend that he didn't know she was standing right in front of him, instead of pausing, he threw his hands in the air in a gesture of frustration and walked full on into her, knocking her to the ground and tripping over her into the dirt of the flower bed just as he'd planned.

Facing away from the tangled mass of a half invisible Auror as he lay in the dirt Harry spotted a jagged rock near where he'd landed and acting quickly he grabbed the rock and created a nice gash down the side of his face, making sure to draw blood. Dropping the rock, he held one hand against the cut that now bled freely and pushed himself up with the other.

"Blimey Harry, you ought to be more careful when you know there are invisible people about," she scolded him before he turned to face her, causing her rant to stop before it could really get going. "Sweet Merlin; are you alright?" She pulled her wand, "Let me see it, I'll patch you up." A quick sweep of spell and the only evidence remaining that Harry had been cut was the blood that had found its way onto his now dirt covered clothes.

"Thanks," Harry muttered, looking forlornly down at his now ruined clothing.

"What were you looking for me for Harry? You know nobody's supposed to know we're around."

"I know, I was just…" he glanced down at his clothes again, then back at the pink haired witch, "it's stupid…never mind." He turned and began walking back towards the house, hoping he'd played it right and she'd stop him and make him tell her the problem.

"Harry, stop; what was it you wanted to ask?" she asked, more gently this time. Fighting off a satisfied smirk, he turned around to face her again and motioned to his clothes.

"I was sort of hoping you'd take me shopping," he said, pausing for a split second before adding in an uncertain voice, "I mean, I've got money and all and can pay. I just, well, the Dursleys are never going to give me any new clothes or take me shopping or anything and I'm tired of looking like a pauper in front of…" he trailed off strategically and looked down at the ground shyly.

"Oh, I see, Harry's got a crush," he determinedly refused to meet her eye causing the young Auror to smile widely, "who is it Harry? Which witch has caught your eye? Come on, I'm dying for gossip here," she added excitedly.

"Maybe I have my eye on a wizard," Harry replied challengingly, finally meeting her gaze. At Tonks gobsmacked expression, he felt a smirk grow on his face, and then continued, "I'm not really sure, nobody has ever told me just how much of their anatomy a Metamorphmagus can change." She continued staring at him, her face completely blank and uncomprehending for a moment before letting loose with a full-blown laugh.

"Alright Don Juan, go change your clothes, I'll put you under a glamour and we'll go to Gringotts then shopping in muggle London, if…" she paused, waiting for his full attention, "I get to pick out a couple of outfits for you, no complaints, this is non-negotiable."

Harry turned, and as he began heading to the house, it occurred to him that this ruse had some actual merit, dressing the part of the pauper had served him, so too, he figured, could dressing to impress. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at Tonks as she disappeared under her cloak once more. "Do you think we can get me new glasses or contacts too?"

"We'll see," she laughed, "Now go get ready before I change my mind." Needing no further encouragement, Harry sped into the house.

-~-

Getting what he needed from Gringotts was easy, he'd simply asked one of the goblins where he could meet with William Bligh of Warren and Barlow while Tonks went off to her own vault after saying that shopping without buying something for herself was like sex without an orgasm.

Harry was led to an office in one of the many corridors leading off the bank lobby where he met William; a large blonde man with sunken grey eyes, a red beard and a thick Scottish accent. After explaining his need for access to both muggle and wizarding funds, he was set up with a savings account with a £2,500 balance at a bank branch the firm worked with, allowing him the ability to transfer funds from Galleons to Pounds or back by sending off an owl. He was given an ATM card for access to the account as well.

His need for large quantities of galleons was harder to meet, and ended up landing him with several magically expanded and lightened bags that could hold up to a thousand galleons each. Harry filled each to the brim and placed them in a backpack provided by William; pocketing another handful of galleons and £1,000 in muggle cash.

He arrived back in the lobby a few moments after Tonks, who gave no indication that she was anything but politely curious about the backpack. The pair then departed for London where they spent several hours purchasing a new wardrobe, new glasses and contacts for Harry.

They returned to Privet Drive just before dusk and thankfully before Tonks relief, Remus Lupin took over guard duty. Thanking Tonks with a bow and a wink, Harry carried his purchases into the house and up to his room and began working on his next order of business; the list of things for Dung.

An hour later, he had a short list and no idea what else he might need at that point. He figured he'd have more requests once he had some further information. Setting down his quill, he went to sleep for the night.

It was nearly a week later when Mundungus was next on shift; after the fiasco the previous year, he'd been reduced to one shift per week.

"Dung," Harry said, nodding at the man.

"Me friends call me Dung," the man said acerbically, "business associates call me Fletcher, I expect you're more the latter than the former. Ye' got yer list?"

"You don't want the boy-who-lived as a friend?" Harry mocked lightly, "Your loss. Here's the list," he handed over the parchment.

_1. Information: Anything concerning the plans of Voldemort, Dumbledore, the Order or the Ministry; and any information pertaining to me_

_2. A way around the restrictions on magic for underage wizards and any Ministry tracking or detection of any magic I might perform or have performed, especially dark magic_

_3. Contacts; Unspeakables, ex-Unspeakables, Aurors, ex-Aurors, Hit Wizards and ex-Hit Wizards. Anybody with useful skills who doesn't support Voldemort or Dumbledore, preferably those with grudges against the Ministry that may be willing to teach me. _

_4. Books on magical theory, rituals, Auror/Hit Wizard/Unspeakable training, powerful artefacts, histories, biographies and/or autobiographies of powerful wizards and witches throughout history, rare or obscure magic_

_5. Two good bottles of firewhiskey, (One for me, one for you)_

Harry could tell when Mundungus reached the last line as the man seemed to smile for a moment, "Maybe I was a bit hasty in judgin' you there 'Arry, I could get used to workin' fer you." The man's demeanour once again changed and before Harry stood not a drunk, but a man who survived in the shadows and darkness of society.

"Some of these things'll be easier to get than others. We settled on the price fer information, getting' around the Ministry in't too hard, you jes' need a wizard willin' to do it fer ya who has the knowledge of how to; that'll cost you a hundred."

Harry nodded, "Now or later?" he asked as the scoundrel paused.

"Free bit o' advice fer dealing in these type o' things Harry; money's always half up front, half when the jobs done."

"Fair enough." He pulled out two moneybags and moved fifty galleons from his bag into the empty one he had for Mundugnus; the original contents of which had been emptied into his school trunk.

"Lemme see yer wand," Harry held it out; Dung ran his own wand silently over the wand, causing a small part on the butt of it to glow. Without warning he cast a cutting curse at the butt of the wand, the light glow flashed once then fell to the ground. "Try 'er now," he ordered. With a swish and flick, a rock sitting several yards away rose into the air.

Harry nodded and looked about, expecting an owl or a group of Aurors to arrive, when nothing seemed to be happening, he counted out another 50 galleons and added them to Dung's bag. Mundungus meanwhile had moved on to another part of the list, "I got a couple of ideas on who to get you in contact with, I dunno if they'll help or not, it'll be 25 galleons due upon introduction regardless of if they help you out or not. I'll start lookin' 'round for some of these types of books in places you wouldn't be able to owl order from; they'll be 10 galleons above cost unless they're extra difficult to find, but we'll negotiate that if you ever have a specific book you want. Now don't be gettin' yer hopes up 'bout them books though, if the key to gettin' _Him _gone was easily found in a book, _he'd_ be dead and everybody'd be powerful as Dumbledore." He paused long enough to smile, "Finally, somethin' worth gettin' excited 'bout. A good bottle of whiskey runs 100 galleons on it's own at cost, call it two at cost and we got a deal."

Harry silently counted out another 200 galleons and gave them to Mundungus, "So, is it Fletcher or Dung then," he asked cheekily.

"Dung it is, Sirius'd be proud of ya'; takin' it to the Ministry and doing what you gotta' do. It's just the sorta think 'e'd a done his self."

Harry confirmed with his mole the date and time of his next shift and the pair parted company, Mundungus off to do whatever a thief and scoundrel does, and Harry began a long walk around the estate thinking about what he'd accomplished and what was left to do.

-~-

The next day as Harry walked down the darkened streets on his journey back to Privet Drive he assessed where he stood. He had a contact getting him information and information was a form of power, the more intelligence and knowledge he had, the better prepared he would be to face the future. This would also help him become more powerful magically in the end, as he had no real idea of how to do so at that time.

Much as he hated it, he forced himself to consider his fame, how it related to political capitol, and if he could somehow use it to his advantage. He knew that in order to do so, he would need to do some sort of public appearances or interviews in order to both stay in the public light and transition his current media favour into the political arena, the questions before him now was if it was worth it. He had been following the Daily Profit as well as the Quibbler very carefully since his decision and knew that if he chose to act, the time to act would have to coincide with something dramatic; in the current political climate, the most likely event that he could use would be the rapidly approaching vote of no confidence in Minister Fudge.

Harry examined his emotional reactions over the last few years and was able to see how people could believe him to be unbalanced, truth be told, he felt unbalanced most of the last two years, particularly since Voldemort's rebirth. He was working on becoming more balanced; spending time each day clearing his mind and calmly addressing any unwanted emotions, it was working. The balance helped him be able to sleep once again without nightmares. He had also been able to address his grief and guilt over his parents, Cedric and Sirius and to accept their loss. He had considered the action of casting the Cruciatus curse, and while he was not proud of his actions, he didn't regret them. Still, he knew that without the time he set aside each day or with a sudden and jarring change he would continue to be ruled by his emotions.

The prophesy was another puzzle he took time to think on; first on why Dumbledore had so dramatically revealed it to him while he was mired in so much grief and guilt that he couldn't comprehend it and then on why the man had put so much faith in it. He came to believe that Dumbledore was doing what he felt was right, but also that the headmaster was so mired in the idea that prophesy was unbreakable that he knowingly facilitated it. Harry hadn't decided how he felt about that, but it made him wary about trusting Dumbledore as blindly as he had in the past, if at all.

This left him to assess his physical health, the only thing he could really work on at the time. He knew he was in fair shape, between Quidditch, training the D.A. and living on the 7th floor of a castle, he'd spent quite a bit of time keeping in shape, but he didn't feel that it was enough. So it was that he organized a physical workout routine as well as planned on taking several strengthening and nutritional potions.


	17. Power, Expanded

Power, as they say, corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. I learned this for myself, a long and torturous lesson. Tom Riddle once told me that there was no good or evil, only power and those to weak to seek it. This was a half-truth; there is good and evil, one can not exist without the other, and neither would exist without power, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Shortly after the death of my godfather, Sirius Black, I made a decision to never be in a situation where my lack of information could lead me to actions that got people killed. I made one other decision that summer; that I would never again be so powerless before anyone as I was before Tom Riddle.

It did not take me long after this decision that so changed my life to realize that it was not only before the dark lord that I was powerless, but that my complacency and trust in Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix left me powerless before them as well. My desire for joy and freedom and peace could never be fulfilled so long as I was not in control of my own life. Until such a time, I was a puppet, going where I was told and doing what I was told, usually without question.

How was I any different than a death eater? I was entirely beholden to Dumbledore, I was his man and I was unquestioningly loyal to him, until I made my first step to obtain power.

I found that there are many types of power. In my mind, I broke them down into five main categories, physical, magical, political, emotional and intellectual and was disappointed to learn that I was weak in each and every one of them by the standards that I decided to measure myself by; my measuring sticks being Tom Riddle and Albus Dumbledore. Each of these men exuded power, and I wanted to emulate them. Looking back at it now, that was one of the first times I consciously straddled the line between good and evil; I didn't particularly care which of them I emulated, I merely sought the type of power they commanded.

Now many say that a man who seeks power in this fashion will turn to the so called "dark side" as the path to power is easier, to them I say "bullshit". The path to power is not easy, period. Many say that a man should not wield such powers as Tom and Albus, I say that they're just a bunch of weak willed pussies.

I digress as I've strayed from the point, that being power, and my quest to become powerful. I gave Tom one thing the day this all began, he told the truth; there is power and there are those too weak to seek it. Thankfully, I was no longer one of the weak.

-~~-

It was a pleasant evening in the estate in Surrey where Privet Drive was located; the final rays of the sun were fading away into darkness and the sky was cast in dark purples and blues, and Harry Potter stood staring down an alleyway at his supposed Order of the Phoenix issued guard, a slow smirk growing on his face. Mundungus Fletcher who was engrossed in a rather loud argument with a shady wizard the young man recognized as Mr. Borgin of Borgin and Burke in Knockturn Alley, over the price he was receiving for several stolen items.

In the past, Harry would have shaken his head and walked away, leaving Mundungus to peddle his wares; perhaps using this as a distraction to get away from everything for a few minutes. Today, however, Harry had made the decision that he would not be one of those too weak to seek power, and he recognized the potential benefits of the situation.

When Mr. Borgin had apparated away, Harry casually strolled into the alley. "Nice evening, isn't it Dung?"

The braggart jumped in surprise, spinning to see the young wizard approaching him, "Oh, 'Arry, ya startled me," he said, his body language betraying that he was nervous.

Harry smiled at the man, "So," he drawled, "you get everything worked out with Mr. Borgin?" His smile widened for a moment at the gobsmacked look that comment drew from the older man, before his face lost all expression. "Don't bother trying to deny it," he added warningly.

Dung sighed wearily and ran his hand down his face, "Whaddya want from me Harry? A bloke's gotta make a livin'." Harry continued to look at him, obviously content to wait the older man out. "First them twins, then you?" he said to nobody in particular. When Harry continued to stare at him impassively, the man seemed to change, he stood taller, and his eyes seemed to clear. In the most sober sounding voice Harry had heard from the man, he asked, "What is it that you want, firewhiskey? Gillywater? Nuddie Mags?"

"I want you to be my ears to begin with. You are in a unique position where you get to here a lot from both sides, and what you know, I want to know." Mundungus expression was stone as Harry continued, "You can move around in the shadier places that I can't, get things I can't and have contacts happy to tell the ministry to piss off. In short, I need access to all of your resources."

"That's an awful lot of trouble you lookin to be gettin in to; might be easier for me to jus fess up to Dumbledore an' let him know what you are tryin to get up to."

"It'd be a shame if say, Lucius Malfoy, somehow learned that you're a member of the Order of the Phoenix, wouldn't it?" Harry's voice was positively frosty, as he growled, "Don't mistake me for some schoolboy making idle threats." A moment passed where the two stared at each other, neither flinching or backing down. It ended when Harry began smiling at the older man. "It does neither of us good to continue our little pissing contest, it'll end badly for both of us, so here's what I propose. I pay you, you provide me with what I ask for, no questions asked by either of us, just business."

"I can live with that," Dung replied after several moments of contemplation.

"Good!" Harry smiled genuinely, "First, I need to know what the Order is focusing on right now, and I need to know any time they talk about anything to do with me or the weapon that was in the Department of Mysteries. I need a way to bypass the decree for underage wizardry…" he trailed off, "it might be easier for me to just give you a list."

"That's well and good, but we ain't talked about payment yet. The information will cost you 80 galleons per update."

"If the information is worth 80 galleons, I'm not going to pay you if you report that Molly mentioned me and Ron in passing or something and just happened to be at headquarters when she said it."

"I may be a scoundrel, but I'm not gonna try and pull that on you. Get your list to me next time I'm on duty, I'll go over it and give you a price list. Now, I don't work on credit and I doubt you got a truckload of galleons stashed away in that house, so if I were you, I'd be thinking about how you're gonna pay me." That said, the man threw his invisibility cloak over himself, the conversation obviously over.

When Harry arrived back in his room at 4 Privet Drive, he finally allowed the tension he'd felt out, falling bonelessly onto his mattress. He'd been bluffing Mundungus about revealing his role in the Order, he was pretty sure the older man knew it too, but he had managed to get capitalize on the situation, now he needed to figure out what to look for and how unobtrusively get access to his vault to pay for it. It was times like these that he wished he was as studious as Hermione.

After thinking through his money problem, he reasoned that as muggle's had many ways to get access to their money without going to the banks and since galleons were far more cumbersome to be carrying around in large amounts than was muggle money, there must be a way for a wizard to have reasonable access to his money.

His mind made up on his course of action, he roused his snowy owl from her from slumber, "Hedwig, I need you to deliver a letter for me to…" he paused, thinking for a moment, "Bill Weasley." Bill worked at Gringots; he figured that he would be able to get his letter where it needed to go. Said owl cocked her head and hopped from her perch onto Harry's desk and looked at the wizard expectantly.

_Bill_

_Can you get this letter to whoever is in charge of my accounts at Gringots? If there isn't anyone who fits that description, could you look at this and possibly answer my questions for me._

_Thanks_

_Harry_

--~--

_Gringots Bank_

_Potter Account Manager_

_Re: My accounts_

_As I am unfamiliar with who manages my accounts, or if they are actively managed, I apologize in advance for not knowing the proper way to address whoever reads this letter, be they goblin or wizard._

_  
I have several questions about my Gringots account(s), and they are as follows:_

_1) Do I have any accounts or vaults, other than my trust account, at any Gringots branches?_

_2) Can I get a statement listing all of my assets?_

_3) Are there any restrictions on any account I may have at Gringots? If so, what are they?_

_4) Is there a way for me to get access to some of my funds without visiting a branch such as cheques, debit cards, or any other such conveniences?_

_5) Do I have any income from my holdings, interest or otherwise? If so, can I get a statement listing the last year's worth of activity pertaining to this income?_

_6) My Godfather, Sirius Black, recently passed away. Is there anything I can or need to do to help to settle his estate?_

_7) Does Gringots offer any sort of monthly reporting of banking transactions? If so, can I be sent details on this service, or if it is a free service, can I be enrolled?_

_Thank you_

_Harry James Potter_

--~--

The next day Harry received his reply, a rather thick packet of papers, printed on high quality parchment.

--~--

_Mr. Potter _

_Thank you for contacting Warren and Barlow Inc. Mr. Potter. Below is the information you requested about your finances and Gringots._

_1) Your trust account is one of three accounts that you have. The others are your parents' personal account and the business account for Potter Holdings_

_2) Included Statement of assets_

_Account Balances:_

_H. Potter: 5,000 Galleons 0 Sickles 0 Knuts_

_J. & L. Potter: 35,802 Galleons 15 Sickles 1 Knuts_

_Potter Holdings: 3,183,991 Galleons 4 Sickles 11 Knuts_

_Recent transactions_

_H. Potter:_

_+152G 27K transferred from Potter Holdings_

_+141G 4S 17S Annual Interest Payment_

_-86G 8S 11K Customer withdrawal_

_-200G Hogwarts tuition withdrawal_

_J. & L. Potter:_

_+702G 8K Annual Interest Payment_

_Potter Holdings:_

_+1546G 14S 8K Converted from Muggle Cheque; WB Brokerage House_

_+418G 14S 8K Gambols and Japs_

_+87G 1S 25K Oddment Gizmo's_

_-42G 2S 2K Charming Charms_

_-152G 27K Transfer to H. Potter_

_+56G 6S 6K The Leaky Cauldron_

_-500G Werewolf Research fund_

_-500G Werewolf Outreach program_

_-6,945G 18S Warren and Barlow Inc._

_+800G 15S Portkey Journeys_

_+8,500G Currency Exchange_

_3. No, there are no restrictions for you on any of your accounts._

_4. There are no methods for you to obtain Wizarding Money without visiting a Gringots branch. Transportation in the wizarding world makes visiting Gringots far more convenient than it is for a Muggle to visit their bank, so there is little call for this to change. _

_An account could be set up for you to access muggle money, should you so decide, though the interest rates in the wizarding world are far superior. If you are interested, you would need to visit our office inside of Gringots to sign some paperwork and inform us of the amount to convert into muggle money._

_5. Yes, you have investments in the muggle world that are handled through WB Brokerage House, a subsidiary of Warren and Barlow Inc. You are part owner of several businesses, Gambol and Japes, Oddment's Gizmo's, Charming Charms, Portkey Journeys and The Leaky Cauldron._

_Statement attached_

_6. No, Mr. Remus Lupin has seen to all of the late Mr. Blacks affairs_

_7. You shall be sent a quarterly statement on each of your accounts._

_In the future, should you wish to contact us, an owl sent directly to Warren and Barlow Inc. will reach us. In addition, please feel free contact me directly for any financial or legal questions or issues._

_Sincerely,_

_William Bligh _

--~--

Daunted, but feeling more confident than any time in his recent past, Harry began planning ways to get to Diagon Alley as quickly as possible. His first thought was to appeal to Molly Weasley that he needed to go shopping for Ginny and Hermione's birthday's, however that idea was scrapped as there would be too many people involved as well as the possibility that the woman may want to accompany him to his vault or go herself to save him the trouble.

The next idea he considered was creating some sort of diversion, slipping off in the confusion and catching the Knight Bus. Though the idea of '_accidentally'_ burning down Privet Drive with a Weasley Wildfire Whiz-bang was greatly appealing as a distraction, the ultimate consequences of the Order mobilizing to find a missing boy-who-lived would bring far more attention to his absence than he wanted.

He could play the sympathy card with Remus the next time he had guard duty, but the idea of playing on the man's already frayed emotions about Sirius seemed a might bit too distasteful so soon after his godfathers death.

Harry ran through the other guards he was aware of that were regularly on duty. Neither Kingsley nor Mad Eye would consent to take him to Diagon Alley. Mundungus might, but doing so would put his reason to be in contact with Harry in jeopardy if they were caught. That left Tonks as potential an accomplice. He had four hours to come up with a reason to convince the auror to take him to play along. Drawing on what little he knew of her and of women in general, an idea slowly began to take shape.

-~-

Harry waited quietly inside Number 4 until he was sure Kingsley had left and Tonks was on duty, and then waited another half an hour, rehearsing in his mind all of the different scenario he had planned for. It was a new feeling, making a plan with contingencies; not having to make things up on the fly; and he liked it.

Dressed in some of his most oversized, and somewhat warn clothing he made his way out to the back yard, hands in his pockets, quietly calling out "Tonks," every few feet. He knew where she was, she never took a different position and didn't bother with silencing charms.

If someone were actually to try to attack Harry on her shift, he had little doubt she'd be dead before she knew what was happening. That was the problem when somebody didn't approach a job like this with the proper attentiveness. Harry only knew Moody or Kingsley was on shift by luck, as if you looked long enough and had no fear, you could eventually find anybody who was trying to follow you. He absently made a mental note to mention her inattentiveness to Moody if she didn't go along with his plan, finding himself strangely at ease with the idea of manipulating her and punishing her if he failed.

Finally, he approached her, continuing to play that he didn't know she was standing right in front of him, instead of pausing, he threw his hands in the air in a gesture of frustration and walked full on into her, knocking her to the ground and tripping over her into the dirt of the flower bed just as he'd planned.

Facing away from the tangled mass of half invisible auror as he lay in the dirt Harry spotted a jagged rock near where he'd landed and acting quickly he grabbed the rock and created a nice gash down the side of his face, making sure to draw blood. Dropping the rock, he held one hand against the cut that now bled freely and pushed himself up with the other.

"Blimey Harry, you ought to be more careful when you know there are invisible people about," she scolded him before he turned to face her, causing her rant to stop before it could really get going. "Sweet Merlin; are you alright?" She pulled her wand, "Let me see it, I'll patch you up." A quick sweep of spell and the only evidence remaining that Harry had been cut was the blood that had found its way onto his now dirt covered clothes.

"Thanks," Harry muttered, looking forlornly down at his now ruined clothing.

"What were you looking for me for Harry? You know nobody's supposed to know we're around."

"I know, I was just…" he glanced down at his clothes again, then back at the pink haired witch, "it's stupid…nevermind." He turned and began walking back towards the house, hoping he'd played it right and she'd stop him and make him tell her the problem.

"Harry, stop; what was it you wanted to ask?" she asked, more gently this time. Fighting off a satisfied smirk, he turned around to face her again and motioned to his clothes.

"I was sort of hoping you'd take me shopping," he said, pausing for a split second before adding in an uncertain voice, "I mean, I've got money and all and can pay. I just, well, the Dursley's are never going to give me any new clothes or take me shopping or anything and I'm tired of looking like a pauper in front of…" he trailed off strategically and looked down at the ground shyly.

"Oh, I see, Harry's got a crush," he determinedly refused to meet her eye causing the young auror to smile widely, "who is it Harry? Which witch has caught your eye? Come on, I'm dying for gossip here," she added excitedly.

"Maybe I have my eye on a wizard," Harry replied challengingly, finally meeting her gaze. At Tonks gobsmacked expression, he felt a smirk grow on his face, and then continued, "I'm not really sure, nobody has ever told me just how much of their anatomy a metamorphmagus can change." She continued staring at him, her face completely blank and uncomprehending for a moment before letting loose with a full-blown laugh.

"Alright Don Juan, go change your clothes, I'll put you under a glamour and we'll go to Gringots then shopping in muggle London, if…" she paused, waiting for his full attention, "I get to pick out a couple of outfits for you, no complaints, this is non-negotiable."

Harry turned, and as he began heading to the house, it occurred to him that this ruse had some actual merit, dressing the part of the pauper had served him, so too, he figured, dressing to impress. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at Tonks as she disappeared under her cloak once more. "Do you think we can get me new glasses or contacts too?"

"We'll see," she laughed, "Now go get ready before I change my mind." Needing no further encouragement, Harry sped into the house.

-~-

Getting what he needed from Gringots was easy, he'd simply asked one of the goblins where he could meet with William Bligh of Warren and Barlow while Tonks went off to her own vote after saying that shopping without buying something for herself was like sex without an orgasm.

Harry was led to an office in one of the many corridors leading off the bank lobby where he met William; a large blonde man with sunken grey eyes, a red beard and a thick Scottish accent. After explaining his need for access to both muggle and wizarding funds, he was set up with a savings account with a £1,000 balance at a bank branch the firm worked with and given an ATM card for access.

His need for large quantities of galleons was harder to meet, and ended up landing him with seven magically expanded and lightened bags that could hold up to 300 galleons each. Harry filled each to the brim and placed them in a backpack provided by William; pocketing another hundred galleons and another £1,000 in muggle cash.

He arrived back in the lobby a few moments after Tonks, who gave no indication that she was anything but politely curious about the backpack. The pair then departed for London where they spent several hours purchasing a new wardrobe, new glasses and contacts for Harry.

The pair returned to Privet Drive just before dusk and thankfully before Tonks relief, Remus Lupin took over guard duty. Thanking Tonks with a bow and a wink, Harry carried his purchases into the house and up to his room and began working on his next order of business; the list of things for Dung.

An hour later, he had a short list and no idea what else he might need at that point. He figured he'd have more requests once he had some further information. Setting down his quill, Harry went to bed for the night.

It was nearly a week later when Mundungus was next on shift; after the fiasco the previous year, he'd been reduced to one shift per week.

"Dung," Harry said, nodding at the man.

"Me friends call me Dung," the man said acerbically, "business associates call me Fletcher, I expect you're more the later than the former. Ye' got your list?"

"You don't want the boy-who-lived as a friend?" Harry mocked lightly, "you're loss. Here's the list," he handed over the parchment.

_1. Information: Anything concerning the plans of Voldemort, Dumbledore, the order or the ministry; information pertaining to me, specifically_

_2. A way around the restrictions on magic for underage wizards and any ministry tracking or detection of any magic I might perform or have performed, especially dark magic_

_3. Contacts; unspeakables, ex-unspeakables, aurors, ex-aurors, hit wizards and ex-hit wizards. Anybody with useful skills who doesn't support Voldemort or Dumbledore, preferably those with grudges against the ministry. _

_4. Books on magical theory, rituals, auror/hit wizard/unspeakable training, powerful artifacts, histories, biographies and/or autobiographies of powerful wizards and witches throughout history_

_5. Two good bottles of firewhiskey, (One for me, one for you)_

Harry could tell when Mundungus reached the last line as the man seemed to smile for a moment, "Maybe I was a bit hasty in judging you there Harry, I could get used to working for you." The man's demeanor once again changed and before Harry stood not a drunk, but a man who survived in the shadows and darkness of society. "Some of these things'll be easier to get than others. We settled on the price for information, getting' around the ministry in't too hard, you jes' need a wizard willin' to do it fer ya who has the knowledge of how to; that'll cost you a hundred."

Harry nodded, "Now or later?" he asked as the scoundrel paused.

"Free bit o' advice fer dealing in these type o' things Harry; money's always half up front, half when the jobs done."

"Fair enough." He pulled out one of his bags and counted out fifty galleons into one of the bag's he'd gotten at Gringots and later emptied into his trunk.

"Lemme see yer wand," Harry held it out; Dung ran his own wand silently over the wand, causing a small part on the butt of it to glow. Without warning he cast a cutting curse at the offending snippet of wood and lopped it off, then cast another spell that put a finished shine where he'd cut, making the change almost unrecognizable. "Try 'er now," he ordered. With a swish and flick, a rock sitting ten feet away rose into the air.

Harry nodded and looked about, waiting for a post owl or a group of aurors to arrive. In the meantime, he counted out another 50 galleons and added them to Dung's bag. Mundungus meanwhile had moved on to another part of the list, "I got a couple of ideas on who to get you in contact with, I dunno if they'll help or not, so it'll be 25 galleons due upon introduction. I'll start lookin' 'round for some of these types of books in places you wouldn't be able to owl order from; they'll be 10 galleons above cost unless they're extra difficult to find, but we'll negotiate that if you ever have a specific book you want. Now don't be getting' yer hopes up 'bout them books, if gettin' power was that easy, everybody'd be powerful as Dumbledore." He paused long enough to smile, "Finally, somethin worth gettin' excited 'bout. A good bottle of whiskey runs 100 galleons on it's own at cost, call it two at cost and we got a deal."

Harry counted out another 200 galleons and gave them to Mundungus, "So, is it Fletcher or Dung then," he asked cheekily.

"Dung it is, Sirius'd be proud of ya'; takin' it to the ministry and doing what you gotta' do. It's just the sorta think 'e'd a done his self."

Harry confirmed with his mole the date and time of his next shift and the pair parted company, Mundungus off to do whatever a thief and scoundrel does, and Harry began a long walk around the estate thinking about what he'd accomplished and what was left to do.

-~-

Three days later and Harry's thoughts had rarely changed. He had a contact getting him information and information was a form of power, the more intelligence and knowledge he had, the better prepared he would be to face the future. This would also help him become more magically powerful in the end, as he had no real idea of how to do so at that time.

Politically, he knew he would have to do some sort of public appearance or interview to improve his political position, the questions before him now were when, what and how. He had been following the Daily Profit as well as the Quibbler very carefully since his decision and knew his time to act would have to coincide with something dramatic; in the current political climate, the most likely event that he could use would be the rapidly approaching vote of no confidence in Minister Fudge.

Emotionally he was becoming more balanced; spending time each day clearing his mind and calmly addressing any unwanted emotions. This had helped him be able to sleep once more without nightmares. He had also been able to address his grief and guilt over his parents, Cedric and Sirius and to accept their loss. He had considered the action of casting the Cruciatus curse, and while he was not proud of his actions, he didn't regret them.

The prophesy was another puzzle he took time to think on; first on why Dumbledore had dramatically revealed to him while he was mired in so much grief and guilt that he couldn't comprehend it and then on why the man had put so much faith in it. He came to believe that Dumbledore was doing what he felt right, but also that the headmaster was so mired in the idea that prophesy was unbreakable that he knowingly facilitated it. Harry hadn't decided how he felt about that, but it made him wary about trusting Dumbledore as blindly as he had in the past.

This left physical power for as the only thing he could really work on at the time. He knew he was in fair shape, between quidditch, training the D.A. and living on the 7th floor of a castle he'd spent quite a bit of time keeping in shape, but he didn't feel that was enough. As he had pulled out some old parchment to begin planning some sort of workout regimen, he noticed that he was writing on the back of an old potions report on strengthening solution.

This gave him an idea, and he began researching his potions book for any type of nutritional, strengthening or muscle building potions. Though he found several potions that fit his description, all but one's effects were temporary and short term. The one nutrient potion he found was very basic, though if taken regularly; it helped the body naturally develop.

He didn't have the proper ingredients in his potions kit for the potion and he wanted to research further potions as well. After he wrote a quick note to William Bligh and attached it to Hedwig, she flew off with instructions for the Mr. Bligh to obtain the services of a personal shopper, something they had discussed during their meeting at Gringots. He ordered a fully stocked master potions kit as well as the potions books used by Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, The Salem Institute and any specialty potions book having to do with magical nutrition or fitness and have an elf deliver the packages to his room as soon as possible.

-~-

That evening when Harry returned from his now customary evening walk, he found an elf quietly standing next to two stacks of books and a trunk-sized box marked potions. "Oh, hello." He said, spotting the elf.

"Delivery for Mr. Potter," the elf said officiously, then stared at Harry suspiciously, "Are you Mr. Potter?"

"I am."

Without another word, the elf disappeared prompting Harry to mutter about how he always was stuck with the odd ones.

Shaking his head in bemusement, Harry attention turned to the potions kit, he looked through it, recognizing many of the ingredients, but also that there were several he'd either never had access to or never even heard of. He was glad to note that everything was arranged alphabetically and would be easy to access.

Closing the kit, he turned to the stacks of potions books. It looked as though he had received the potions book for each year from each school as well as a few books on magical nutrition and wizarding health. He frowned as he opened the top book on the pile, something obviously from Beauxbaton as it was written in French. He flipped through it, recognizing some of the recipe's that marked it as a first or second year equivalent text. He encountered a similar problem with the Durmstrang books, as they were written in what he guessed was Romanian. Harry pushed the dozen books in different languages into a corner of his room and opened the first book of the two books used at Salem, books he was sure were in English at least.

Though the books were in English and full of good potions advice, Harry was unable to utilize the potions recipes in them as the colonials used a completely different system of measurement that he was unfamiliar with. He suspected, based on the wealth of knowledge offered in the lecture portions of the book that it would be a far superior resource than the one Snape had them use. He had a feeling that the same would be true of the other books as well, if he were able to read French or Romanian.

Though he could not utilize the recipe's, he read over the listed descriptions, instructions, notes on properties of each ingredient, warnings about common mistakes and how they could ruin the potion of all of the nutritional and strengthening potions listed in both books. Harry took notes on the various preparation tips, potion names and properties and planned to reference them against the potions listed in the magical nutrition and wizarding health books. He studied late into that night, idly thinking that if he'd had this kind of dedication for his O.W.L.'s he may have gotten an O in potions despite Snape.

-~-

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

PhysicalMagicalPoliticalEmotionalIntellectual

Harry is out walking the neighborhood one night thinking about what options he has when he overhears Mundungus talking to somebody; he turns the corner to see that Dung was talking to Mr. Borgin of Borgin and Burke IN Surrey. He blackmails Dung into acting as his personal shopper, picking up any book he can find on power rituals, ways to bypass ministry laws, ect. He has Dung get him a way to bypass the underage magic laws and persuades the Dursley's that he's better off left alone.

Harry manipulates Tonks to take him shopping for clothes, so he can get to Gringot's and get money as well as set up a muggle account for emergencies.

Talks to Dung, gives him list of what he wants and first payment for information, the rotation schedule for the rest of the summer, an overview of the political infighting in the ministry surrounding the Malfoy case, Fudge losing a lot of support fast. Attacks on a few prominent adult wizards and witches, Voldemort not acting as overtly as he had in the past with his lack of followers. Dementors soul suck everyone in Azkaban, warden only one to survive, locks down the prison, trapping them in. Wards erected around the island to keep them in, even after they find a way to break out of the building.

Dung gets Harry in contact with Keegan O'Malley during Harry's search for power enhancing rituals and potions. Keegan, begins molding Harry into a revolutionist eventually pointing Harry to several rituals and potions that will help him to achieve his goals to become powerful once he has a purpose and plan for his power. Offers his advice to Harry on combat, things to learn, items he might want to procure, places to obtain rare/illegal potions ingredients and an independent view of the inner workings of the ministry as well as current news from the department of mysteries where he still has sources. Teaches Harry about magical theory and how it pertains to power as well

This begins Harry's work towards becoming powerful, through the creation of power potions (including a potion that matures and strengthens his body like strengthening solution) as well as several power rituals. He will quickly gain significant magical power, and begin his study of all faucets of magic, supplemented by charms and potions that allow him temporarily increased abilities to absorb information and a ritual that allow him a permanent increase in exchange for several sacrifices. He will also look into muggle techniques to improve memory, speed reading, meditation at the advice of Keegan.

Harry decides to start paying Dung on the DL as the man is very useful and it's better to buy his loyalty than risk his conscience. He hires him to act in his stead in the underworld, be his ears inside both the DE and the Order, and procure for him things of questionable nature (rare/illegal potions and/or ingredients, weapons, artifacts, ect.)

Pays off Dursley's to go on a vacation, goes with them, but separate in Nice, Harry has objective items to pick up in magical parts of France, and was given the advice to enjoy the time he has, because the path he's going down may well get him killed. Harry touring city when he witnesses a man attack a woman, he attacks the man, pulls him off the woman and tells her to run while still struggling with the man. Turns out it was role playing, they are a couple, after convincing Harry of this, the two take him to dinner for his 'heroic' behavior, then to a club; an S&M club where Harry quickly finds he enjoys the feeling of power he gets when in control of another's pleasure and pain…loses his virginity here.

Early in the year, Dumbledore mentions some information he should not know, that Harry figures he only could have gotten from Legilimency, leading him to seek out Keegan, who points him to Borgin who taught Voldemort.

At this point (before committing to learning with Borgin, who insists he can make Harry's mind impenetrable within a very few hours of training (and he isn't lying)) Harry has a crisis of conscience as he know Borgin is a DE sympathizer. He decides the ends justify the means, and takes Borgin up on his training. Once trained to sufficiently block his mind from a master Occlumens and directed to several reference materials that will help with learning Legilimency, Harry kills Borgin to prevent him betraying him.

Continues to learn from Keegan; who upon hearing about Harry's would be heroics in France tells him it's good to have ethics and morals, even if they don't meet other peoples standards it will help keep him from becoming a tyrant if he has a code he abides by. Keegan gets him thinking tactically, gives him ideas on how to best utilize Legillimency to achieve his goals and help people see his vision for the future to gain followers. Creates a long term plan for removing Voldemort, the ministry and finally Dumbledore who would inevitably oppose him and remold the wizarding world.

First person he recruits is Neville, his loyalty to Harry despite not being terribly close, his drive to prove himself and his obvious hatred for DE's make him the easiest to recruit and a valuable ally.

Recruits Lavender next, being looked at but never seen by anyone, she's deeper than anyone gives her credit for, brave and loyal and has a drive to prove herself, as well as being a half blood like Harry, so has motivation for wanting Voldemort gone.

Uses Ron and Hermione's vitriolic relationship to pull away from them and Ginny's love triangle with Dean and Seamus to avoid those three; Spends his time with Lavender, Parvati, Neville, Padma, Lisa Turpin and Luna Lovegood

Has Lisa and Padma research how to beat Veritaserum, then research how to detect when somebody is doing so.

Has them research how to permanently kill Voldemort, gives them information on some of the rituals he has performed and the ingredients he used.

Other notes:  
Snape becomes DADA teacher, Harry skips class a lot.

Harry starts with a single article/editorial/interview in the Quibbler, this thrusts him into the political spotlight and Harry entertains interviews from the Profit and Quibbler after this becomes a regularly sought out commentator, helping to shape public opinion, regularly pointing out the inadequacy of the ministry and legal system compared muggle governments and later other magical governments as well.

Harry begins recruiting from mainly Ravenclaws and Gryffindors in his year, then later some of their parents, fringe members of the ministry and the Order, suspected dark families as well. Swelling those loyal to him to around 40-50 wizards and witches.

Through slow, methodical capture and torture of death eaters (1 at a time he stalks them and ambushes them) starting with Draco, he eats away at their resources. His goal is to force Voldemort into more direct action as he loses resources.

Voldemort himself can't be defeated until anyone with the dark mark is dead or the dark mark is removed.

Harry takes control of the ministry via a puppet minister before he takes Voldemort down to ensure none of his followers escape. When Voldemort is defeated, Harry dissolves the ministry and instates himself as ruler.

-~-~-

**Keegan O'Malley: **a disenchanted former unspeakable researcher. He was forced out of the unspeakables for political reasons during the first war and lost dexterity in his hands and both of his legs while acting as a hit-wizard.

His specialty as an unspeakable was ritual research, which included a great deal of potions research as well.

He holds a grudge against the ministry as he is now forced to make his living as a potions tutor out of Knockturn Alley for home-schooled purebloods. His personality will be a mix of Marv from Sin City and Gabriel from Swordfish (crazy, intelligent, do anything it takes, even at the cost of your own life to right the wrong, get revenge and ensure the continuation of society)

He is a revolutionary, he wants to overthrow the ministry, he doesn't agree with Voldemort on purebloods, but he agrees that somebody needs to take control.

Lisa Turpin: Would be anarchist, anti ministry activist. Daughter of a squib mother and muggleborn father who are both professionally discriminated against without any consequence. Very intelligent, dislikes Hermione for her "I'm always right" attitude, stating that being smart doesn't make one always right, and the true sign of intelligence is being able to assimilate new information and admit being wrong. Best friend of Padma Patil: Kent Storm meets Lisa Simpson

Padma is the shy one of the twins, quiet, intelligent, insightful and kind. Pureblood who's parents oppose Voldemort but stay quiet and refuse to fight as they don't believe anyone is equipped to defeat him. Interested in experimental magic and theory of magic. Hobby is reading romance novels. Low self-esteem.

Parvati is the outgoing one of the twins, intelligent but not driven to learn, low self esteem. Reputation as ignorant and boy-crazy girl is perpetuated by Hermione to Harry and furthered by Seamus, ex-boyfriend whom she broke up with for attempting to hook up with Lavender while still dating her, his response was to spread lies about how easy she was, then beg her to take him back. She almost did until she found out about the Weasley triangle with Dean. (see parents above). Has a modicum of foresight, some parts of divination real to her and Trelawny is knowledgeable and a nice woman when you get to know her, if a little melodramatic

Lavender: more outgoing, raised in very liberal family, halfblood mom and muggle father, confident and intelligent, but because of the Seamus situation and reinforced by Hermione and her work in divination to help support Parvati and her like of Trelawny in addition to her liberal attitude she's seen as somewhat of a Bimbo. Develops a crush on Harry as she gets to know him, and as an assertive woman, goes for him shortly into the year. Has a kinky side. Exhibitionist.

"But you killed people Harry, you're a murderer!" Hermione exclaimed, doing her best to retain her composure as she faced the stranger that her best friend had grown in to.

"That I am," he replied calmly, "and worse."

"Are you going to kill more people?" she asked, her voice now trembling, hoping against hope she didn't receive the answer she knew she would.

"Do you want me to lie, or do you want the truth?"

"The truth Harry!" she screamed.

"Yes, I'm going to kill again Hermione, I'm going to kill any man, women, child or being that opposes the revolution." His voice rose, ringing with passion as he continued, "For too long has the wizarding world reveled in the corruption of it's government, for too long have men like Lucius Malfoy and Cornelius Fudge been allowed power through blood money. For too long have the powerful, like Dumbledore allowed these things to happen and for too long have the citizenship turned a blind eye to the rampant bigotry that allows men like Tom Riddle to exist. It has to end, and I WILL end it. I want you with me Hermione, but don't confuse my affection for you for weakness, if you oppose me, I will not hesitate to kill you."

"What do you plan to do if you become as powerful as you hope to, boy?"

"Kill Voldemort, end this bloody war, find peace and be left alone."

"Is that all?" Keegan shook his head, "What a bloody waste; no different than Dumbledore. All that power, all the titles, positions and influence and yet he allows a war like this to begin in the first place. He lets a government come to exist whose entire purpose is to ensure the rich remain rich and free. His "power"," he sneered as he said the word, "set our society back nearly a hundred years. Do you know why?" He paused for effect, "fear. Dumbledore did what he had to in order to defeat Grindelwald, but the man was a teacher and ill suited for that much power. No boy, if all you want power for is to kill some mad dark wizard, I'll not help you, I don't want to be responsible for creating another powerful wizard for society to pin their hopes on, only for him to be too frightened of his own power to lift a finger to help them when they need it most."

"What would you have me do? Lead a revolution?" Harry yelled at the old man, angry that he had wasted his time, "I'm sorry, but I'd rather be another Dumbledore than another Voldemort!"

"That's just it," the man roared back, "why do you have to be like either of them? The supposed embodiment of dark and light, good and evil, yin and yang? The world isn't a black and white place. No boy," he stressed the word, "there is no room in this for your hero worship. The world doesn't need another dark lord or benevolent authoritarian, it needs a revolutionary to take control and right the wrongs no matter the cost." The man took a deep breath as he regarded Harry then sighed, "I'm sorry kid, I just don't think you're capable of being that kind of man."


	18. 4th Champion

Harry had been wandering around the halls of Hogwarts for over an hour thinking about how once again he found himself in over his head. While he preferred the Triwizard tournament to facing a troll, basilisk, werewolf, or Voldemort, he knew he was ill prepared. This time, though, he had an advantage over the previous situations; he had time to prepare even if he didn't know for what, and he was going to use it.

As he walked aimlessly through the halls, he was trying to figure out just how he was going to prepare. The other champions had three years of schooling, and multiple years living in the magical world over him; so it occurred to Harry that he needed more time. An idea rapidly formed in his mind, while his feet automatically took him to Professor McGonagall's office, which was unfortunately empty.

"Bugger this," Harry snarled kicking the door in frustration only for the door to creak as it swung open. Looking down the hall in either direction, he rushed into the room. "Lumos," he called, lighting his wand so he could dig through the Transfiguration Professors desk. It was too easy, the Time-Turner sat at the back of her top drawer, grabbing the chain; he hastily stuffed it into a pocket and retreated from the room, sealing the door behind him.

Harry nearly ran towards the Gryffindor common room, cresting the last set of stairs just in time to see the portrait close as his head of house entered. 'What good is the Time-Turner to me if I get caught before I can use it?' He thought, turning away from the picture of the Fat Lady. He found an empty classroom and ducked in, hopping up on the vacant Professors desk to think.

Pulling the Time-Turner from his pocket, he slipped the chain around his neck. Hermione had turned it three times for three hours, so it was easy enough to figure out how to use. He had means and a vague idea, what he lacked was a real plan. Cradling his head in his hands to think, out of the corner of his eyes he noticed a piece of parchment sitting on the desk. Curious, he picked it up and was startled to find his own handwriting.

_Me-_

No plan yet, but it's a good idea to go back a few hours, duck into the dorm while it's empty, and get the map, your cloak. I haven't thought much beyond that. You need to destroy this parchment and rewrite it; leave it here for you to find earlier.  
Time travel is confusing; we should probably start getting used to it.

-Me  


_PS: You will appear on the map multiple times when there are multiple you's; as I look at it there are dozens of me running around right now._

PPS: This is from an older you than the original you, use the map to avoid running into yourself. Remember, Hermione said that if you saw your past self it'd drive you mad. We don't want to take that chance.

PPPS: This is from a much older you; it's wicked. Don't worry about when you're supposed to do all this stuff; it'll happen naturally. There doesn't seem to be a limit to how many times you can use the Time-Turner; but no matter how many times you spin it; you can only go back 12 hours at a time. 

Harry read, then reread the note. His idea had worked, would work, or was working; he wasn't sure on the proper tense. He decided to follow his own instructions; first he set the parchment alight and waited for it to burn down to nothing, and then, checking his watch to see what time it was, turned back time three hours to the start of the feast.

As sneakily as he could, he approached the Gryffindor common room, giving the password to the guardian portrait he entered. Seeing it was deserted, he ran up the stairs to his dorm, grabbed his cloak and the map, and found another letter from himself.

_Don't forget to bring extra parchment so you can go back and leave the first note to yourself_

_-Me_

As soon as he'd finished reading the parchment, it burst into flames on its own causing the young wizard to smile. He had no idea how to do that yet, but now he knew he would. Taking the notes message to heart, he grabbed some extra parchment and ran from the room.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Harry chucked as he watched his younger self run off to start on the journey that even now after what seemed like weeks he'd been at this he knew he was only just beginning. Pulling off his invisibility cloak, he stepped from the corner, lay down on his bed, and pondered all that he'd learned.

Moody had entered him in the tournament and was an imposter; Dumbledore didn't know about Moody, but was content to let the situation play itself out rather than investigate. Snape, Karkaroff, Crouch, and Bagman were all involved with the Death Eaters. Ron was a prick, jealous that Harry got all the glory for his own actions, and Hermione was two faced, agreeing with Ron while they were alone, but supporting Harry when she deigned to spend time with him. Finally, the first task was facing Dragons; he would be going last and would match up against a Hungarian Horntail to retrieve a golden egg from its nest.

He hadn't allowed himself to go further into the future or see his own performance, preferring to focus on beating the first task. He hadn't lived through the days leading up to the task in what he'd termed normal time; until now; it was time to rejoin the real time stream. He had one final task to complete before he replaced his younger self, break in to McGonagall's office, and set it up for his younger self to steal the Time-Turner.

After having covertly watched his head of house lock and unlock her office dozens of times from multiple vantage points, and even having broken in several times to make sure he could without getting caught, it was child's play to do so again. Once he was in, he opened every drawer, cabinet and cupboard in the room and summoned the Time-Turner to himself, chuckling when it flew from the top drawer, exactly where he'd found it the first time. Replacing the device in the drawer, he closed everything back up, and left the room, leaving the door ever so slightly ajar.

Once he was certain that everything was perfect, he snuck down to the Great Hall and waited for his younger self to leave and begin wandering, then headed to the Common Room in his stead.


	19. The Basement

"Tell me," he asked simply.

"Sod off Potter," Draco sneered back, "When I tell my father about this, he'll make sure you rot in Azkaban," despite his bindings, the arrogant blond smirked, "if he doesn't have the ministry burn you at the stake." He paused in thought, before adding, "maybe he'll challenge you to a duel of honor and kill you himself."

"For all your bluster, Malfoy, you're forgetting one thing…"

"What's that Potter?"

"You have to get out of this room. As far as I can see, the only ways that will happen is if your mind breaks, or I get bored of torturing you and kill you."

"Say what you want, St. Potter, but we both know that you're not going to do anything but try to scare me, then let me go," Draco replied, his voice less certain than before, but still strong and defiant.

Harry simply smiled at the so called Slytherin prince he had chained to the wall as he slowly walked across the room towards a metal table covered in nasty looking medical instruments beneath a white sheet. He stifled a smile as Draco's eyes widened when he pulled away the sheet. The setup was a classic movie cliché, but Harry's new found flair for the dramatic and twisted sense of humor prevailed over the efficiency of his wand. He had no intentions of using the metal implements; he doubted Malfoy would last that long without breaking.

"Where to start Draco, where to start," Harry let his hand hover over a scalpel for a moment, before pulling it away and shaking his head slightly, "No that wont do," he muttered to himself. "You know; my teacher always said there are five major types of torture; blunt, sharp, hot, cold and asphyxiation and to always start light," he said conversationally, "Then again, she was speaking in the context of sexual pleasure…still, I suppose it applies here."

Without a word, he drew his wand and conjured a bull-whip; he cast a reverse sonorous charm on Draco, one that amplified all sounds he heard tenfold. "Now Draco, you'll really be able to appreciate the sound of a scream," Harry whispered before cracking the whip across Draco's chest, tearing a hole in his robes where whip met flesh in the process.

Biting his tongue, Malfoy managed to contain his reaction to a muffled grunt and a wince, whether the wince was from the whip or the noise, Harry really didn't care. "This is a good whip," he said in a low voice, striking three more lashes across Draco's chest. Looking at the chained young man and now shaking young man, he allowed a smirk as he continued, "Lavender would love this, you know Malfoy, if you last more than a few hours, maybe I'll bring her down to watch me work. She'd get so worked up, she'd probably want to fuck right here. I wonder what her moans and screams would sound like to you." He laughed loudly at the thought, deliberately raising his voice a little and enjoying the reaction he got. "Well, enough foreplay," his face lost all expression, "Are you going to tell me what I want to know, Draco?"

"Fuck you," the young man spat back, wincing at his own volume.

"I was hoping you'd say that." The whip began raining down faster now, tearing the robe it met to a bloody mess as the screaming started. Half an hour passed with only the sounds of a cracking whip and screaming filling the air between the foes before Harry suddenly stopped and began walking towards the door, idly canceling the spell he'd cast on Draco as he walked.

Breathing heavily, the once arrogant young man managed to speak, "that all you got Potter? Can't stomach the screaming?"

Harry stopped and turned around, a full smile on his face, "I have to say I'm impressed; I figured when you saw I was serious about torturing you, you'd break right away. So because you impressed me, I'll answer your question. Unlike you, there's more to my life than this room and I wanted to enjoy the rest of my day. I'll be back in a couple of days to feed you and we'll start again. Ta!" With that, Harry left and the room was plunged into pitch black.


	20. Healthy Debate

"But the wizarding world is stagnant; if they don't change they'll die. It needs to change, adapt, advance..."

"Why," Harry interrupted her tirade, "Why must our society advance; change, be like muggle society? Because you say so, because the muggle world changed?" He shook his head sadly, "This is the basis for the wizarding worlds' dislike of muggle-born wizards and witches. We are happy how we are, for the most part. Yes, I admit that the government is corrupt and a dark lord will inevitably rise every 30 to 50 years. The government can be dealt with, you, of all people know, since you pay attention in History of Magic, that wizards will often rise up and replace a corrupt ministry. So far as the other, dark lords, it is only in the last century, when influenced by muggle idea's, strategies and tactics that they have become as bad as they have. This is augmented by large groups, mainly of Hogwarts graduates; being allowed to become biased by a man too wrapped up in his own guilt and need for a second chance to punish those who have earned it."

"How can you abdicate a society where you expect a dark lord to rise twice every century, where slavery is allowed and even encouraged? How can you defend a society where women can be sold off as brides for political or financial gain and where prejudice towards any number of intelligent beings is allowed?"

"Hermione," Harry said quietly, but his voice was laced with power, "How much crime is there in the wizarding world outside of dark lords? How many murders?" he paused, and as a frown crossed her face, continued, "so few that there are no statistics for it. Like I said the dark lords of this century have gotten out of control, when I take over, and make no mistake that I will, I will take firm control over this, after I take care of Voldemort and Dumbledore, there will be peace in the wizarding world for over a century, because I will act where Dumbledore didn't. I will kill, where Dumbledore gave a second chance. When I'm in charge, I will fix some of the prejudice in this society. Werewolves, Vampires and House Elves are all worthy creatures to be treated how they want. That doesn't mean forcing freedom on a creature that doesn't want it, however. As to marriage contracts and polygamy, wizarding society is not the only society that has these customs. Beyond that, a young woman is allowed to refuse their matches privately to their parents and usually alternate arrangements for future contracts are established, nobody loses in these situations. As to polygamy, it has been done for centuries for politically, financially and magically powerful wizards. It helps to perpetuate the wizarding way of life as powerful magic is likely to pass on to the next generation and that magic can overcome some of the genetic problems that muggles encounter with marrying within a limited gene pool. I'm not saying that muggle-born don't have a place in wizard society, just that they need to get better acclimated and realize that magic isn't a skill, it's a way of life, living in both worlds is fine, but one must realize that the worlds are inherently incompatible. The muggle world desires change, advancement, dominance, the wizarding world desires to be left alone and allowed to live their lives as they have chosen."

"Why not combine the worlds though Harry?" Hermione asked, unsure now as Harry was making an effective if somewhat condescending argument, "Why not work towards advancement in the wizarding world, modernize it?"

"To what end Hermione? Some wizards are capable of evading death indefinitely and obtaining godlike powers...should we develop the magical equivalent of nuclear weapons, make it so the next Voldemort can cast one spell or do one ritual and make London disappear? The world wouldn't survive that. Advancement like you are talking about is bred, primarily, out of need and that need is more often than not a product of war and a single full scale war in the wizarding world would end it. Even Voldemort and Grindelwald were more terrorists than armies." Harry paused, looking sadly at his friend as her eyes showed a defiance that he recognized as her fervent need to be right, he sighed, realizing that they would be on different sides of a soon to come battle. "I had hoped to convince you to help me change things, but I can see that you have your own idea's and will not be dissuaded from what I believe will be a disastrous endeavor. Just remember that the advancement you want comes at a price, just ask the Atlanteans." That said, Harry walked away from a suddenly shocked looking Hermione.


	21. History, Expanded

Three months in the life of a teenager is like an age; it isn't uncommon for a boy to grow into a young man or a girl into a young woman in that time; this holds true for both mundane and magical people. Still, Platform 9 ¾ quieted greatly as a very different Harry James Potter than the one who left it three months prior, stepped through the barrier separating it from Kings Cross Station. He was taller, broad shouldered, his hair was longer and tied back, he no longer wore glasses and was dressed in fine, high quality robes rather than the customary oversized faded rags he'd habitually worn in the past. The Harry Potter of before was meek and easy to miss as he tried his best to blend into the crowd, this Harry Potter, however, demanded attention. What nobody knew or could see was that the physical changes were only the beginning.

Harry had spent less than a week on Privet Drive before Remus and Bill Weasley had come for him, telling him that he'd likely never be forced to return. They had taken him to a law office in London where Sirius' will was read and executed, before whisking him off to his new guardian, Orion Black's, manor in Bretagne, France. It was there that he learned that Sirius had planned to fake his own death, take up the role of Orion Black and free Harry from the Dursley's as he had promised.

Remus, Bill and surprisingly Percy Weasley had taken Sirius plan as an opportunity to approach and recruit Harry to their own cause; a political movement away from the radical pureblood agenda, but different from Dumbledore's vision for closer ties with the muggle world. Their goal was to preserve magical culture and maintain tradition without the associated bigotry and violence that the pureblood agenda espoused. Harry had admitted to himself, their recruitment pitch was impressive; what had really sold him on giving them a chance though had been their offer of several levels of advanced training regimens regardless of his decision.

Harry had of course opted for the most intense training program they could offer him, often to his regret as he was pushed beyond exhaustion magically, physically and mentally on a daily basis.

His training had started off well as an unnamed man under some sort of obscuring and masking charm began preparing him for his first ritual, one designed to increase the amount of magic Harry could channel at any time. Once Harry had donated blood to and taken the first dose of the preparation potion and been informed that for the next week his only sustenance would be from one dose of said potion each day, his tutor began teaching Harry how to detect even the most subtle of mental invasions.

Over the next week, as Harry's hunger and thirst grew from annoying distractions to outright pain, the mental training continued, each attack becoming more complex and difficult to detect. When once complaining about the hunger pangs distracting his attention after failing to detect an attack, his tutor simply told him that if he could master it while so distracted, then once he no longer had such a distraction he would be that much better. At the end of the first week, despite the great hunger and thirst he felt, Harry was able to detect even the slightest mental probe or prod.

At dawn on the eighth day, Harry was fed the last of the potion and strapped to a stone alter. Crystals and gems were placed about his body, and a spell cast upon them. Harry felt his magic begin to seep from his body into the stones, it began as a slow trickle, hardly noticeable at all but over time the drain became heavy and tiring, before proceeding into painful. For twelve hours he writhed in his bonds on the altar as his magic was focused and refocused, forcing the conduits of magic within his body to grow at an unnatural pace. He didn't wake again for three days.

Once he did wake again, with the ritual complete, his mental training continued with learning empathic magic. Once shown how empathy worked, he thought of it as emotional Occlumency and Legilimency, an idea that his tutor encouraged. For a full week they worked together to build his abilities at building a shield around his emotions, ironically built and maintained by the ambient empathic magics his emotions created. This method had an unforeseen but highly desirable side effect; not only did it serve as an extraordinarily powerful Occlumency shield, but it protected his mind and emotions completely from any outside influences, including memory charms and possession.

Harry's final lessons in the mind arts centered on developing what were commonly called mage senses; the ability to sense the flows of magic directly. He didn't really see magic, nor hear, smell, or taste it, but none the less he felt it the same as if it were any other of his senses; it was always there, but now he had an awareness of that sense and what it meant.

The end of June came and with it Harry's training intensified. Each night, Harry participated in a ritual that allowed him to absorb the memories of others as if they were his own at a much faster rate with higher, near photographic retention, and by day, he was forced to master and demonstrate the practical aspects of his training. When injured, which happened at least twice a week, Harry would absorb knowledge of runes, arithancy languages, culture, politics, and history and during the day was forced to debate their meanings, implications and value in society. It was these lessons that changed him most profoundly, as he began to really see what it was those with entirely magical heritage wished to protect.

For two grueling months this pattern continued, interrupted only to perform several minor rituals that corrected physical problems like his malnutrition and his need of glasses, and greatly accelerated his physical development.

All of that pain, sacrifice, and work brought him to Platform 9 ¾ ready to return to Hogwarts, his friends and his life. Now though, he had secrets he couldn't share with his friends; a new philosophy to live by, a commitment to a movement that actually gave him choices, and a public role to play. To allow himself the ability to disappear should he so desire, or act where Harry Potter could not, he adopted an alternate identity, that of his non-existent Orion Black.

Harry strode across the platform towards the train, his trunk being pulled steadily behind him. Harry almost sighed as the people parted for him without so much as a greeting from anyone, not even members of the DA. Lifting his trunk easily, he boarded the Hogwarts Express and began looking for a compartment to sit in. About half way down the train, he found Neville and the pair grabbed the nearest empty compartment.

"How was your summer, Nev?" Harry asked easily, after getting his trunk sorted and settled.

"It was alright, a bit boring, what with it being just Gran and I, but I did manage build a new greenhouse. Gran was so proud of me for standing up for myself against death eaters that she practically insisted after we got my new wand," that said, Neville loosed a shaft of polished wood from up his sleeve into his hand, "thirteen inches, holly and unicorn hair."

Harry smiled at his friends' obvious enthusiasm for his new wand, "That's great mate. I don't know how to feel about your Gran being happy about you fighting death eaters though."

Neville's smile faded a little, "I know what you mean," he answered quietly, "but we dwelled enough on that kind of thing last year to distract us from our O.W.L.'s, this year, we're free and clear of them, so we can relax a bit and pretend we're normal kids."

"I do believe you've gone and become wise, Neville," Harry laughed, "and I agree with you. So, speaking of the O.W.L.'s, how'd you do?"

Before Neville could answer, the compartment door opened again and Lavender, Parvati and Padma stood just outside, "Mind if we join you two in here?" Lavender asked, "We normally sit with Dean and Seamus, but they blew us off to go look for Ginny Weasley."

Harry looked to Neville and asked, "Do we really mind if three beautiful witches join us in a small cramped car for an eight hour train ride, Neville?"

Instead of answering Harry, Neville stood and held out his hands, "let me help you with your trunks."

"I'll take that as a no," Harry said sarcastically and joined Neville in stowing the girls' luggage.

"You're sure Ron and Hermione won't be jealous, sharing you with us?" Lavender asked a little cattily.

"Well, they're certainly my friends, and I'm sure they'll stop by, but I realized this summer that I could have a lot more friends if I actually put any effort into it," Harry answered, then glanced at Neville, "I also realized that I could be missing out on some great friendships if I didn't."

"Whatever else happened to you this summer, it agreed with you," Lavender said, looking Harry up and down rather obviously.

"Both of you," Parvati agreed with a giggle, eyeing Neville like a piece of meat. While Harry hadn't noticed, Neville had grown a couple of inches and trimmed away any remaining baby fat. While the changes in Neville weren't as dramatic as Harry's, they were still striking.

"So," Padma interrupted her sister's shameless ogling of the boys as the train began to move, "you were talking about O.W.L. results?"

Parvati groaned, "I swear, sometimes I think you're Granger's twin, not mine!"

Ignoring the Gryffindor Patil, Harry answered, "We were, but don't you have to get to the prefects meeting?"

"No, only Gryffindors, Slytherins and the new 5th year prefects have to meet with the head boy and head girl, everybody expects the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs to behave unless they demonstrate otherwise," Padma answered.

"I'll bet Hermione was apoplectic when she learned that," Neville said through a smirk.

Padma smirked back, "Oh, she should be learning it just about now; actually," at the confused looks she got, she explained, "Nobody wanted to deal with her throwing a tantrum last year, so the head boy lied and said that he'd meet with the others later."

Parvati and Lavender shared a look and began giggling, and were soon joined by Padma as Harry and Neville began to laugh themselves.

"You weren't trying to get rid of little ole me, now were you Harry?" Padma asked when the laughing had died down.

"Of course not," Harry smoothly replied, "I just know that if you're anything like Hermione, and based on what Parvati said, you are, that you'd hate to interrupt a conversation about test scores with something as prosaic as a prefects meeting; that's all."

"Prosaic? Somebody got a thesaurus for his birthday," Lavender teased.

"I shall not dignify that with a response," Harry replied, sticking his tongue out at the blond girl, who winked back at him and slowly licked her lips, her eyes focused on his wagging tongue. "Right," Harry said, ignoring Lavender's husky whisper of 'was that an offer,' "so, O.W.L. scores. Who got what? I got an O's in Defense and Charms, E's in Herbology, Transfiguration, Potions and Care and an A, P and D in Astronomy, Divination and History respectively."

"Not bad Harry," Neville commented first, "7 O.W.L.'s isn't bad at all; I got 6, O's in Herbology and Defense, E's in Care and Astronomy and A's in Charms and Transfiguration."

Padma revealed that she got 9, all O's, with the core subjects, plus Rune's and Arithmancy. Parvati got 6, like Neville, an O in Astronomy, E's in Defense, and Charms A's in Transfiguration and Potions; much to her disgust, she'd managed a D in Divination. Lavender scored the same as Parvati, although she managed a P in Divination.

Harry looked up when the door opened, thinking it would be the snack cart. He was disappointed, however, to spy someone else entirely.

"Oh look, Malfoy _can_ learn," Harry stated as the blond Slytherin peaked into the door, sneered and turned to leave. Draco turned around, opening the door to the compartment upon hearing Harry's taunt.

"Improving company, scarhead," he said, staring contemptuously around the full compartment, "A pair of pureblood wogs, a pureblood slag and a pureblood squib. Surrounding yourself with purebloods doesn't make you one, half-breed."

"Draco; you bring up an excellent point for debate," Harry stated, "the definitions of blood status now, versus those that existed before the muggleborn Grindelwald changed them. Did you know that prior to Grindelwald, a pureblood was defined as a wizard or witch who was born with no living muggle relatives; the generally accepted definition of this when premature death of prior generations was involved was 3 generations. Full blood was defined as a wizard or witch born to a wizard and a witch regardless of their parents magical heritage. Half-blood was a term used for children born of a magic user and either a muggle or squib or born of two squibs. Muggleborn, of course, hasn't changed."

"What are you talking about Harry," Padma asked, interested, despite her dislike of blood politics. She was a Ravenclaw and knowledge was power, and Harry's knowledge seemed both genuine and interesting. Malfoy even looked interested, despite himself.

"Let's start with Slytherin, who by today's standards would have been a half blood," before Harry was interrupted, he pressed on, "his parents and grand parents were all magical, but his great grand parents on his mothers side were all muggles. This is documented fact if anybody bothered to research it, there's a book in the Hogwarts library by Rowena Ravenclaw that profiles each founder and their background." Harry looked around for objections, but seeing that even Malfoy seemed content to listen, despite looking skeptical, he continued, "The important point in this is that Slytherin was considered a full blood in his time and, until about 80 years ago, would still have been considered a full blood. Grindelwald's rise started in the early 1900's, and he, like Voldemort, drew on the economic and political power of the old magical families. His then secret goal was to destabilize the magical governments enough to where he could take them over one at a time as a dictator, and so he began to sow discord, by encouraging the narrowing of the definition of pureblood to include only 5 generations of genetically pure wizard; a muggle idea by the way, and fullblood to what used to pass as pureblood. He also lobbied for laws to keep only those pure in power."

Harry paused to take a drink of pumpkin juice, "he worked different ministries throughout Europe and after about 30 years, was successfully able to start a rebellion and civil war in Germany and Austria as the lower class rose up against the purebloods and demanded equality. His plan was successful as he led his supporters against the broken ministry and crushed the rebellion. He ruled as a tyrant for several years before Dumbledore assassinated him and a force of wizards and witches from Western Europe took control of his puppet government and rebuilt it into the independent body it is today."

"Late in his reign, Grindelwald hoped to expand his power throughout Europe as the muggle's of Germany were, and so he began a propaganda campaign to bring people to his cause. Wizards throughout the countries seeded with his propaganda began preaching his idea's as fact, though they were unwilling to risk the power they had to be overthrown by Grindelwald later. After Grindelwald fell, Tom Riddle, now known as Voldemort saw the genius of the campaign in the lasting effects that spread across the world, and decided that he could manipulate the same class of people in the same way, fashioning himself a champion of the purebloods and binding them to him as his servants when it was too late for them to turn back. So, the war we have now over blood purity is really over ideals created by a muggleborn and championed by a half-blood, both of whom espoused such beliefs for their own ends."

Harry stood and approached Malfoy, his eyes and face suddenly expressing fury and a promise of pain, "Now, Draco," he growled, "I believe that you owe everyone in here an apology, and then you can be on your way."

Malfoy stared at the implacable look in Harry's eyes and decided that discretion was the better part of valor. "I'm sorry," he mumbled before quickly darting out of the compartment, deep in thought. Silence pervaded as Harry retook his seat.

"And you got a D on your History O.W.L.?" Padma asked incredulously, breaking the silence and the tension in the air.

"Well, I wanted to see if there really was a T grade," Harry answered with a smirk, "I took a nap during the test without answering any questions, so I think I can definitively say, there is no such thing as a T."

"This has been fun," Padma said, getting to her feet, "but I'd better go find Tony and do our rounds."

Harry would later wonder if she'd somehow deliberately timed her action and words for right when Hermione opened the door to their compartment, upon later questioning, Padma claimed ignorance with only the barest of smiles. Smiling pleasantly, Harry greeted Hermione, and ignored the glare she shot at Padma as she left.

"You're looking well Harry," Hermione stated, seemingly out of form than genuine concern as she didn't even look at him before sitting down in the compartment, "how was your summer? Where did you go? How come you didn't write or let _anyone_ know where you were? We were worried? What did you do? Who were you with? How did you get there?"

"Subtle Hermione," Harry said with a grimace, "perhaps you'd like my Gringotts vault number, blood and seamen samples and the prescription to my glasses?" He turned to Neville and without bothering to hide his irritation asked, "Is she always like this and I've just never noticed, or is she being exceptionally rude?"

Hermione reeled back like she'd been slapped, her expression one of betrayal, "Harry, I've just been worried about you, and nobody knew where you were."

"I've been fine, Hermione, really, though I notice that you neither apologized for being rude nor acknowledged let alone greeted the others our this compartment. For all you know, we might have been in the middle of a conversation," Harry replied mildly, "and how was your summer? How did you do on your O.W.L.'s?"

The bushy haired girl continued to frown as Harry continued to ignore her questions and chide her for her behavior, still, Harry knew that O.W.L.'s were important to her and he had asked after her scores, so she'd let him off for now. "Well I was ever so disappointed in my scores," she explained, "I got 8 O's and an A. An A!" she exclaimed, "They should have graded Astronomy on a curve what with the distractions. There's no way anyone scored any better than an A with all of what was going on," she lamented.

"Well, congratulations for one of the best possible scores," Harry replied, "I got 7, 2 O's, 4 E's and I managed an A in Astronomy. Parvati, Padma and Lavender scored O's on their Astronomy O.W.L.'s and Neville managed an E." While Harry continued to look politely interested, Parvati, Lavender and Neville didn't bother to fight off matching smirks.

"Well, bully for them," Hermione huffed irritably, "we'll talk later," that said, she stood and exited the compartment rather more quickly than she needed too.

"That wasn't awkward at all," Harry remarked once he felt certain she was out of earshot.

Silence prevailed after Harry's statement until Neville quietly cleared his throat,

"She is you know," he said.

"She's what, Nev?" Harry asked.

"She's always like that," he motioned at where she sat, "bossy, condescending, and outright rude sometimes. Even in the DA, a lot of people wouldn't join or wouldn't be friendly with you because of how she acts superior," Neville answered, "A lot of people felt the same about you, because you're so close and you never really made an effort to get to know anybody else."

"It's true Harry," Lavender said softly, "It's not that Parvati and I don't like her, necessarily, we just don't like her attitude, and some of that transfers to you, especially after how you acted at the Yule Ball."

"I'm not sure I ever apologized about that, so I'm sorry Parvati, you deserved better," Harry admitted immediately, before lapsing into a thoughtful silence for a moment, "Has she always acted like that, or did it develop over time?"

"Back in first year, when we all went up to our rooms, she was asking all sorts of questions about magic and what it was like to grow up knowing about it, and Lav and I were happy to answer her, until she started belittling our beliefs," Parvati growled the last part.

"Belittling your beliefs? I know she can be bossy, but she's the champion of free thought, that doesn't sound like her," Harry defended.

"Let me ask you something Harry," Lavender stated, "Do you believe in higher magic...that magic has some form of sentience?"

Harry paused, thrown by the non-sequitur, before considering her question thoughtfully. He figured that since Lavender and Parvati were rarely serious about anything, he owed it to them to at least try to be as serious.

"I do," Harry said certainly, and then added "It has to; I'm alive, aren't I?" Getting small smiles in return, he continued, "If you'd asked me before this summer, I might have answered the same, but I wouldn't have been as sure of myself as I am now."

"It's okay, even if you didn't, you gave the idea consideration, and had you not agreed, I don't think you would have judged us for believing it" Lavender replied, "like with Divination; it was obvious that you never really took in seriously, but you never made fun of us because we did." Harry nodded and smiled at her, indicating she should continue, "We were raised to believe it, but when we started explaining it to Hermione, she looked at us like we were stupid and said that all magic was, was a form of radical energy, and that believing otherwise was a silly superstition. That's why we've never really gotten along. Her acting like that is like telling one of the muggleborns, that their God doesn't exist, he's just made up to make them behave themselves."

"I could talk with her," Harry tried, but was quickly dissuaded.

"We don't want you to, Harry," Parvati said immediately, "she chose to act superior; she chose to make light of our beliefs; she chose to be snide about our fascination with divination, even if she is right about Trewlawny not being a real seer. She decided it was okay to look down on us plebeians and our quaint beliefs."

"And if she disagrees with what someone tells her, she can be as judgmental as Malfoy," Padma said, entering the compartment and thereby the conversation, adding "I assume we're talking about Hermione Granger." Everyone more or less nodded in the affirmative, "thought so."

The compartment once again fell into an awkward silence as Harry was forced to admit that Hermione was capable of behaving that way, and that he had ignored it when she had done so. She wasn't any less of a friend, baring their last conversation, but he decided that he didn't like that others saw him as supporting that behavior.

"Don't get me wrong, Harry," Neville added belatedly, "she can be nice, and helpful, and seems to be a very good and loyal friend to you. I don't think anyone thinks she's a bad person, really, it's just that they don't know her like you do, and it's hard to get to know her because of how she acts."

"Right, I get that my best female friend isn't really likeable, can we change the subject now," Harry requested.

"Alright Harry, I'll let you off this time, if you behave, but I reserve the right to punish you later," Lavender purred causing Neville to choke and start coughing heavily.

Thankful for his mental fortitude, Harry responded by merely raising his eyebrow at the blond, and asking, "Does anyone else play wizard chess badly?"

The next several hours of the journey passed with a good deal more flirtation and a good deal less serious conversation as first Harry, then Neville opened up to the three attractive young witches.


	22. HPSG1 the 2nd

"What the hell?" Harry Potter yelled, as he stood and swiped his hand across his sweaty brow. A series of loud crashes from further within the newly unearthed Egyptian Pyramid had startled him, nearly causing him to lose control and incite a cascade ward failure. As no answer was forthcoming, he drew his wand and prepared for the worst. "Bill? Lisa? Twinhooks? Stoneclub?" he called to the two humans and two goblins that made up his advanced team.

"Harry," the voice of Bill Weasley echoed urgently through the corridor.

Setting off down towards the voice, Harry hurried towards his companions. "What happened Bill?" he asked after rounding a corner and finding the disheveled redhead with a long gash on his face and both of his legs pointing in funny directions.

"Twinhooks found an intact canopic jar, no magical signature, no runes, nothing but paint," the man began.

"The silly bastard opened it, didn't he?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer. Bill nodded wearily. "How bad?"

"I don't know what happened, but something jumped out of the bloody thing and into Twinhooks," the eldest of the Weasley brothers explained. "Before anyone could react, he was cutting us up. Some sort of possession entity, tied to an animated or conjured creature stored in stasis. I've never seen anything like it."

"What about Lisa and Stoneclub?" Harry asked shortly.

"Stoney's dead, decapitated," Bill replied. "Turpin went one way and I went the other, Twinhooks followed me."

"Where is he now?" Harry demanded.

"He had me, I thought I was dead, then something spooked him and he took off," the senior curse breaker related. As he spoke, Lisa Turpin stepped around the corner, grim faced with wand in hand, but unharmed.

"You good if I go take care of Twinhooks?" Harry questioned soberly.

"I'll take care of the playboy and get him back to his pretty little Veela wife, Potter," Turpin stated calmly, already conjuring splints for their partners legs.

Without another word, Harry concentrated on the tracking spells that were standard for curse breaking expeditions; he easily located Twinhooks and Apparated to the wayward goblins location.

The crack of his arrival had barely dissipated where the ground seemed to jerk and he was thrown bodily into the gold colored wall where he cracked his head. Disoriented, he staggered to his feet. He had to grip the wall to avoid falling while he waited for the room to stop spinning.

As he gained his bearings, he once again concentrated on locating Twinhooks, who it seemed was stationary about twenty meters away. Disillusioning himself and casting a bubble of silence around him, Harry slowly crept down the corridor he found himself in and towards his possessed comrade. Following the curve of the way, Harry found himself standing before a gold colored doorway with no obvious way to open it.

Pressing his custom designed focus against the door, he whispered, "Alohomora." The door slid open with hiss followed by the distinctive crack and pop of electronics overloading with magic. Surprised at the presence of electronics in an Egyptian tomb, it took Harry a few seconds to see that Twinhooks body was wracked with spasms, his eyes bleeding and his once full mouth of sharp teeth poked jaggedly through his lips and cheeks. Lastly, he noticed the large black mass that consumed the top two thirds of the far wall. Upon a second glance, he realized that it was not a painting, but a window that looked out into space.

Ignoring the stunning view, Harry focused on the more pressing matter of his teammate's distress. Casting a diagnostic spell on the goblin, he learned that Twinhooks was infected with some sort of parasite and had gone into anaphylactic shock. In short, he was a goner; all Harry could do was ease his passing. A quickly muttered spell severed Twinhooks spinal column, allowing the goblin to die honorably of a battle wound.

Taking a moment to look down upon his fallen comrade, Harry noticed a small, snakelike creature slither from his mouth. The creature seemed to look around, before lunging at Harry. Only instincts honed from years of Quidditch and combat allowed him to catch the parasite in midair.

"You dare!" the snake-like creature hissed. "I am your god, Osiris, you insignificant worm. You will die a thousand deaths for this insult!"

Ignoring the oddly accented Parseltongue curses spewing from the parasite, Harry conjured a small terrarium and sealed the creature in. Remaining vigilant, he sealed the cage with several spells, ensuring the snake-thing wasn't going anywhere. He returned his gaze to the window and the space beyond for a time, before wandering out of the room to look for an exit, somehow not expecting to find one.

Ten minutes later Harry had found two Spartan living quarters, a large, empty room, and a room that housed a crystalline structure connected to a bunch of circuitry. Returning to the room with the window, he took stock of what he saw; a large window, a pair of chairs sat behind glowing panels, a larger chair sat behind the others with a smaller lit panel on one of its arms.

"Bugger!" Harry exclaimed. He'd seen enough television to recognize the basics of a spaceship when confronted with them in combination with a window into space, even if he didn't believe it. Looking over the panel, he found that it was in the strange variant of ancient Egyptian that his team had brought his team to the small temple.

"You, Osiris," he hissed angrily at the caged snake-like creature, "how do I return to Earth?"

Osiris, who had devolved into muttering curses and threats while Harry explored her ship, stopped suddenly and focused its iridescent red eyes on him.


	23. The Final Horcrux

Molly Weasley stood staring out her kitchen window towards the edge of the anti-apparition wards that now surrounded her home wondering where her son and his two best friends and when they would once again return.

It had been nearly two years since Albus Dumbledore was murdered and Hogwarts was closed. Two years since the Order of the Phoenix failed and Harry led a group of young men and women in a guerrilla war against the death eaters, despite the ministries attempts to stop them. Two years since she'd seen hide or hair of any of them, and nearly two years since she'd even gotten a letter from them.

The only reason she knew they were all still alive was the clock her and Arthur had received for their wedding, a clock meant to keep track of wayward children, not fighters in a war.

Her musings were interrupted by the telltale crack of somebody apparating at the edge of the wards. Instincts honed from living in a constant state of fear, her wand was drawn and the shade pulled before she gave conscious thought to who might be arriving at her home. Arthur, Bill, his wife Fleur, Fred, George and Ginny arrived in the kitchen, wands drawn and faces set in stone as they arranged themselves into fire positions around the door and awaited the stranger.

A knock on the door was met with bemused but wary smiles all around. With a flick of his wand, Arthur cast a sonorous charm on himself, "Who's there?" his amplified voice rang out.

Through the echoing of Arthur's voice, they could hear a chuckle, a familiar chuckle. "Damn it's good to hear your voice," Harry's voice called back as the door opened slowly to reveal a broad young man clad in black leather duster pulled tight around him. He had long black hair pulled back in a ponytail; three nindu teeth through one of his ears, several thin scars crisscrossed his right cheek, bright green eyes and a familiar lightning bolt scar across his forehead.

"Harry?" Molly asked tentatively, before quickly checking the family clock and seeing his hand pointing at home. "It's really you? Why are you here? Is everything alright? Where are Ron and Hermione? Are they okay?" She again checked the clock and saw that their hands were pointing to Hogwarts.

"They'll be okay Molly, don't worry. I'm sorry if I startled you all. I came because I have news; Voldemort is dead." He stated callously. Everyone in the room froze, their eyes going wide, "I sent the son of a bitch to hell." He turned to walk away, calling over his shoulder, "I wanted to tell you in person, and to tell you that I'm leaving England, tonight, and I don't expect to come back. I love you all, thank you for being my family."

The Weasley family could do nothing but watch, stunned, as the young man who they had adopted as an honorary member of the family, who had had so many things taken from him in his short life, walked away from the only family he had ever known.

It took until he was half way to the edge of the wards before they broke out of their stupor and, as one, began chasing after him. Cries of "Harry!" rang out as they began running after him. The young man stopped and waited, but didn't turn around. When the six redheads and the lone blond reached him there was one pervasive question that they each asked in their own way was "why?"

Slowly turning towards them, it seemed as though his eyes were glowing slightly before he blinked and the light was gone. "I've been through too much, seen too much, had to do too much to want to stay here. Maybe one day I'll come back, but right now I just…" he trailed off, looking at each of the surrounding men and women in the eyes, before looking down at the ground. In a low voice he continued, "Look, this is hard enough as it is, can you…can you please just let me go?"

Before anyone else could react, Arthur pulled him into a rough hug, "Good luck son. Wherever you go, whatever you do, you'll always have a family here. We'll be waiting for you."

As Arthur began pulling away, Harry slipped a small piece of parchment into his pocket and whispered to him, "read that when I'm gone, talk to Ron and Hermione, you'll understand why I have to go." The family each quickly said their goodbye's and began heading back to the Burrow, leaving the young man standing, staring at the crooked house wondering on what might have been.

"Ginny," he called out as the young woman began walking away; "can you wait a second?"

The young woman in question turned around and faced him, though there were tears running down her face, she stood resolutely, waiting quietly for him to continue. When her family had all disappeared into the house, he began to speak.

"This is the hardest part, Ginny, saying goodbye for the last time…" he got down on one knee in front of her, his right hand reaching into his pocket.

"Ohmygod," she exclaimed as she looked down at the man she loved, on one knee before her.

"The last years have given me a lot of time to think, I've done a lot of things I regret, a lot of things that haunt me, but nothing more so than what I've done to you, and what I have to do."

"What are you talking about Harry?" she asked, confused now. One second believing he was going to propose to her, and now talking about things that haunt him, things that had to do with her.

"There's one final horcrux that needs to be destroyed for Voldemort to be gone forever, it's why I have to leave…"

'He couldn't mean…' she thought in horror, "Are you sure Harry, you can't be a horcrux, please tell me I'm wrong," she cried hysterically, "I don't want to lose you again, not like this!"

"Shhhh, it's okay, Ginny, it's okay." He took a deep breath, and let it out, "I'm not the final horcrux…you are!" Moving like lightning, Harry rolled backwards and to his feet, drew his wand and cast "Avada Kedavra! Incendio!" As the body of Ginny Weasley burned at his feet, he felt the soul of Tom Riddle pass from the world and a great weight was lifted from his shoulders.

Inside the Burrow, Arthur opened the piece of parchment Harry had handed him and read the simple line: "I'm sorry, it had to be done."


	24. McG

"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall called entering the Gryffindor common room. "Come with me."

Harry stood, walking through the gathered crowd celebrating his entry to the Tri-Wizard Tournament he heard several catcalls from the upper years who were jealous that he'd apparently cheated and succeeded where they'd failed. The one that hurt the most, though, was from Ron, "you're in for it now, Potter; you cheat!"

Doing his best to ignore the jeers and taunting that had sprung up from the celebratory party, the Boy-Who-Lived sullenly crawled through the portrait hole and began following his head of house to her office in silence.

"Sit down Mr. Potter," the Transfiguration Professor ordered, taking a seat behind her desk. When he had complied, she continued, "Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"

"No," Harry denied vehemently.

"Very well, I believe you," McGonagall answered, preempting a rant from Harry. "I believe that someone intends for you to be injured or killed in this tournament, and given your academic performance to this point, I believe that is a likely outcome."

"Wait; what?" Harry asked in confusion. She believed him, but he was probably going to die? It was almost like talking to Dumbledore!

"I said that at your current level, you are ill prepared to compete," McGonagall reiterated. "I wish to help you in that regard. You have a great deal of potential and I intend to see to it that you fulfill it."

"Why," Harry questioned.

"I have failed you several times since your arrival at Hogwarts; I did not take your warning about the Philosophers Stone seriously, I did not protect you from the slander, even among the Gryffindors, over you being a Parseltongue, I allowed Albus to…" she trailed off. "I have failed you, and I owe it to you and to your parents memories to see that you are prepared. I owe it to Gryffindor and Hogwarts to see that you represent us well."

"But I thought you couldn't help, it's against the rules," Harry protested.

"If we're caught, the punishment is that you will be removed from the competition," McGonagall answered with a smirk. "I believe that is a win-win situation."


	25. Narnia

A late summer night found Harry Potter half-asleep, alone in the Gryffindor common room rather than sleeping in his dorm. His tossing and turning in the night as he relived the horror of the Dark Lord Voldemorts resurrection less than a week prior disturbed his dorm mates; but more than that, he wanted to be alone.

A slight breeze carrying an unknown floral scent ruffled the fringe of his hair, causing him to crack his eyes opens to find the source of the disturbance. The sound of a flag flapping in the wind further drew his attention to a portrait of Godric Gryffindor kneeling before a lion, his banners flapping in the breeze.

While moving portraits in Hogwarts were nothing new, a painting issuing a breeze was not something he had before seen. As he came more fully awake, Harry was fairly certain that he had never actually seen that particular portrait of Gryffindor move before.

Rising from wingback chair on which he'd been sleeping and walking to the portrait the breeze grew stronger. The figure of the lion and of Gryffindor seemed to glance at him as he approached, before leaving the portrait all together. The indistinct background grew clearer and more lifelike the closer Harry got. The breeze picked up to a gusting wind, scattering the few fallen leafs about the scenery.

When a leaf was blown clear from the portrait onto the floor in front of him, Harry leaned down and picked it up, finding it as real as anything in the Forbidden Forest. Unable to help himself, Harry reached out to touch the picture and somehow not unexpectedly his hand entered it as if it were simply a window.

He quickly pulled his hand back, examining it, though he didn't know what to look for other than to make sure it hadn't magically become painted on. Seeing that it was fine, and feeling both reckless and energized by the new mystery that took his mind from his immediate troubles, Harry took a few steps back before running at the portrait as if it were the portal to Platform 9 ¾'s and jumped through the frame.

He found himself standing on what looked to be a large, flat mountain. As he walked about, looking out to the horizon in each direction for the lion or Godric Gryffindor, he was unable to see them. The more he looked, the more he realized that he was unable to recognize anything as familiar, which was not unexpected considering he'd never been anywhere but Surrey and Hogwarts and for all he knew had traveled through time and space.

The sound of barking dogs and the thump of what sounded like marching drew his attention away from the ruins to a group of giants and dogs approaching him quickly. Harry's first instinct was to hide, but atop the large, flat mountain, there was nowhere he could hide. Thankful that he'd fallen asleep in his robes and had his wand on him, he palmed it and waited warily for the giants and dogs to approach.

The dogs arrived first, barking loudly and growling, they circled him but none approached him directly. The sound of the giants voices and a horn of some sort was muffled enough by the hounds that he couldn't understand what they were saying.

As the giants approached even nearer, Harry quickly realized these were giants of a type he'd never heard of before. They were far more massive than the giants he'd learned about in Defense and History; standing at least 10 to 12 meters rather than the 4 to 6 meters he had expected.

With the dogs circling him, he couldn't back away from the enormous beings, and so gripped his wand tighter, eyeing them warily with one eye while searching for some way to escape should he need to with the other, belatedly realizing with some despair that his gateway into this world was nowhere to be found.

With a snap of one of the giants fingers that sounded like thunder the dogs immediately stopped barking.

"What have we here, a man?" the giant that had snapped boomed, when Harry didn't respond, the giant leaned down closer to him and demanded, "Well?"

"Um…yes, I am a man," Harry responded, then thinking it best added, "and a wizard."

"A wizard you say," the giant replied, scratching his huge chin, "I can't say I know what a wizard is."

Before Harry could respond and try to explain another giant yelled out, "Who cares, he'll be good for the feast with the centaurs we got. Human meat is pretty tasty."

That's all Harry needed to hear to know what he needed to do. With a flick of his wand, he hurled one of the dogs that were circling him at the lead giant, before turning and running, furiously casting curses at the hounds still circling him. After the second of the large canines was tossed unceremoniously out of the way, the other dogs scrambled out of his way.

Unfortunately, the giant hunting party behind him, was not as easily cowed. Huge spears and rocks crashed to the ground all around him, any one of them as deadly as the Avada Kedavra curse was. Knowing he had nowhere to hide and that no matter how quickly he ran, a being more than 5 times his size would easily overtake him, Harry stopped and turned to face the giants.

His duel with Voldemort still far too fresh in his mind, along with his second guessing of his actions left Harry with one thought, attack. The lead giant causally approached Harry, laughing and speaking, though Harry paid no attention, instead letting fly a blasting curse directly at the giants eyes. The curse went low, hitting the giant in the nose causing it to explode in a shower of gore. Enraged eyes locked onto Harry, and he said the only thing that came to mind, "Shit!"

He never saw the boulder before it crashed down a scant few feet in front of him and bowled him over, crushing him.


	26. Raven

Harry sat, stunned, staring blankly at the letter in front of him. It was unbelievable; after everything he'd gone through in his life already, all the choices that had been taken away from him, he just could not comprehend his fate.

He set the letter down, stood up, walked across the small room and proceeded to punch himself in the head several times. When the pain and slight disorientation of the punches receded, Harry calmly walked back to the letter, picked it up, and read it again.

_Harry Potter:_

_It is an unexpected turn of events to have to write this letter to you on behalf of my daughter, but the time of the contract between our families has come to pass. Since no actions were taken by you or your guardian and the terms of the contract are all met, we have less than 12 months to discuss the details of the engagement and wedding._

_Please contact me at your first convenience to set up a meeting between our houses._

_Respectfully, _

_Typhon Turpin_

"Fuck me!" Harry exclaimed.

"Boy," Vernon Dursley bellowed from the floor below, "you keep your bloody language civil you little freak or so help me..." the main trailed off, but his meaning was clear.

Harry didn't really care as the reality of the situation crashed down on him, in under a year, he was contracted to marry a girl he couldn't remember ever meeting or interacting with. Facing the situation as he had every other situation he'd been forced into, he plunged ahead. Grabbing a quill and some parchment, he composed a letter to Mr. Turpin.

_Dear sir,_

_It is with regret that I write to you that I was unaware of the contract between our houses, and that I honestly do not know what needs to be done or taken care of. I will find a way to The Leaky Cauldron and will send my owl ahead to Tom to reserve a private room for this coming Saturday if that is agreeable._

_Harry Potter_

Harry quickly attached the note to Hedwig and sent the owl on her way. When she was gone, he walked out of his room, down the stairs and into the yard.

"Whoever my minder is, I have an important and urgent matter to discuss, please meet me in the back yard so we may speak without being seen," he said, loud enough for his voice to carry. At this point, he could care less about any sort of secrecy the guards wanted from anyone but the muggles, as if the blood protection wards were worth anything then the guards sole duties were to protect him from his relatives and vengeful ministry personnel.

Five minutes later found Harry sitting on the back stoop waiting for the Order guard to reveal themselves. "Whoever you are, drop whatever illusion or invisibility cloak you're wearing. I don't have all bloody night."

An unfamiliar man appeared, looking annoyed at Harry, "What do you need that's so urgent?"

Harry looked at the irritated and unfamiliar man and sighed, "bloody great," he muttered to himself, "Listen guy," he began, "go get Dumbledore, McGonagall, Tonks, Moody, Lupin or one of the Weasley's."

"Just tell me what's so urgent and stop wasting my time here kid," the order member protested.

"Listen," Harry growled, "I don't know who you are, but you're wasting _my_ time. Go get somebody I bloody well trust, and be quick about it. If it makes you feel any better about abandoning your post, I'll wait inside the house for them to arrive." Without waiting for a response, Harry stood and walked into the house, closing the door behind him. "What a git," he said decisively to himself.


	27. Superhero Magic

"Hey Harry," Colin Creevey said tentatively as he approached the oft temperamental wizard. Said wizard looked up regarding his admirer with a curious but neutral look. "Umm, do you remember that time I came to get you out of Professor Snape's class during the Triwizard Tournament?"

Thinking back on it, Harry vaguely recalled that it was Colin who had summoned him to the Weighing of the Wands ceremony. "I remember," he agreed.

"Do you remember how you said that you owed me one," Colin asked.

"I suppose I did," Harry allowed. To be honest with himself, he couldn't really recall, but he trusted the young Gryffindor as much as he trusted anyone who wasn't one of his closest friends.

"Well, umm…" Colin stuttered excitedly, "I, I mean Dennis and I; we've been working on something for a while, a couple of years really, and we think we're ready. Would you have about half an hour to spare?"

"Okay," Harry answered standing up and closing the book he'd been reading, "I've got some time now if you're ready."

Colin squeaked what Harry could only interpret as an agreement and nearly ran off, only stopping and waiting for his hero once he reached the porthole and realized he'd left Harry behind. Smiling and laughing a bit, Harry caught up to the young man and the pair left Gryffindor tower.

Bemusedly Harry followed the younger boy through the halls on the seventh floor until they came to a portrait of an aged wizard with wild, flyaway hair and an eye patch who was busy cackling madly and haphazardly throwing ingredients into a bubbling cauldron. Looking at it, Harry realized he'd never seen it before, and glancing about, he realized though they didn't leave the seventh floor, they were somewhere Harry was completely unfamiliar with.

"Super Science," Colin called out to the portrait. Though the figure inside seemingly ignored him, the picture swung forward revealing a large dark wood door. With a simple unlocking charm the door opened and Harry followed Colin inside.

The room was surprisingly large and very sterile. The walls, floor and ceiling all looked like they were covered in some sort of dull metallic plating. On one end of the room there was what looked like a potions station atop a table made of the same metallic plating, though the equipment on top of it would have looked more at home in a 60's science fiction movie than in a potions classroom. On the other side of the room there was, disturbingly, a table, obviously designed to hold a person judging by the presence of wrist, ankle and body straps, that sat at tilted at an upward angle.

Against one of the opposite walls a bunch of chalkboards covered in different runes, potions recipe's, animated spell diagrams and one covered in strange word combinations that Harry assumed were names. Near the forth wall there was a teachers desk with two chairs behind it and one comfortable looking wingback in front of it. On the desk sat stacks of parchment, Colin's camera and some brightly colored poster boards.

"Have a seat Harry," Colin instructed, interrupting his inspection of the room and waving his hand at the wingback chair. Harry sat and Colin walked around the desk, sitting behind it.

"Where did you find this room Colin?" He asked, still glancing about trying to make out the writing on the chalkboards.

"Fred and George Weasley held Dennis and I find it and get it set up. They said it was important to have a proper lab," Colin answered, "though they looked at us strangely when we described what we were looking for and declined to know the details. They were surprised that I didn't ask them to help me make a dark room."

Privately, Harry was half surprised that he didn't see a dark room or much in the way of photography equipment. "So, why am I here?" he asked politely.

"One minute," the boy answered, "we're waiting for Dennis and then we can begin."

The pair lapsed into silence for a time. More out of breaking the awkward silence than any real desire to converse, Harry asked, "What did you have to do for the twins help?"

"We acted as test subjects for some of their wheezes," Colin answered with a small eye twitch; Harry shuddered in sympathy for the boy. "It was nothing, really, compared to our own…" Colin trailed off as Dennis entered the room.

"Hello Colin, hello Harry," The younger Creevey brother called, "I'm glad you could be here Harry."

"I'm not sure exactly why I'm here," Harry replied, the tone of his voice belying a slight amount of impatience.

"We shall have to remedy that then," Dennis answered. Though two years younger than Colin, it was obvious that the younger Creevey was the spokesman for the pair. "Colin," the young boy said, motioning to the poster boards lying on the desk. The elder brother picked them up and scuttled off to the other side of the room, dragging an easel into Harry's field of view and setting the boards on them.

Dennis motioned for the Boy-Who-Lived to face the presentation. His patience quickly waning, Harry did and only barely bit back a groan as the first poster board had a stylized lightning bolt in the background and superimposed over it in glitter were the words '_Harry Potter, our hero' _in a flowing girly script.

"As you may or may not be aware, Harry, you are our hero, more than that, like it or not, you are the hero of the Wizarding world," Dennis began. "One thing we noticed after careful observation throughout the years is that, despite flashes of brilliance and power that far exceed that of the average and even above average adults, you are amazingly average."

Harry paused at that, wondering if he should take it as a compliment or an insult. He knew he was powerful; he was always striving to be normal. To hear that most of the time he was more or less normal in other people's eyes was strangely disheartening.

"After Colin's first discovered he was magical we were taken, as a family, to Diagon Alley by Professor Sprout. To cut a long and mostly pointless story short, we geeked out and bought not only all of Colin's required supplies, but tons of extra books, potions ingredients, magical gadgets and pranks."

Harry nodded, imagining the family that produced the hyperactive young teen running about the magical alley. If Hagrid had let him, Harry would have probably done the much same thing.

"That summer Colin, Mum and I went through all of the books and discovered the Wizarding World had a real live hero, you, with whom we would be attending school with. Unfortunately, as I've previously stated, you were average; just another kid trying to get by." Dennis held up his hands, forestalling an outburst from Harry, "We know it wasn't fair of us to build you up in our mind and be disappointed with who you were; our expectations were naïve. Still, it was with that in mind that we began _The Project_."

Colin flipped the poster board to the next one, this one drawn in thick black marker and reading _Operation Make Harry Heroic_.

"When Colin got home from Hogwarts that first year, I was expecting him to have all sorts of super powers…" Dennis paused, "A little background information, we are big comic book and science fiction fans. Our parents raised us on the likes of Superman, Batman, The X-Men, The Avengers and so on."

Harry nodded, only recognizing Superman and Batman, but understanding the gist of what Dennis explained.

"Anyway, Colin didn't have any superpowers and explained that he didn't know how to get any using magic and he explained that you didn't have any superpowers he knew about either, we decided to find out how to reproduce the powers of our favorite comic book characters using magic."

Colin flipped to another poster board, this one with a list of what Harry assumed were comic book characters as topping the list were Superman and Batman. Indented below the name in smaller writing was more writing, though it was too small for him to read from where he sat.

"This list represents nearly four years of research and development by Colin, my mom and me on how to replicate comic book superpowers and gadgets using magic, and we want to give it to you."

Colin turned to another poster board, the last that he had on the easel, and on it was a well drawn picture of a figure dressed in black with a lightning bolt on his chest, a red and gold cape and a cowl.

"So," Colin spoke for the first time since Dennis entered the room, "what do you think?"

Harry sat speechless for several minutes staring at the caricature that apparently represented him as a superhero. Eventually he spoke, "It's an interesting proposition guys, but, I'm not sure; I mean, I've never even read a comic book."

Both boys gasped, "Colin," Dennis snapped causing the elder brother to bolt from the room. He turned to Harry, "He's gone to get our school collection, it's not much, but it should give you a better idea of what you would be getting into should you agree."

"Can I ask," Harry said, "You're like 12 years old, but you sound a lot more mature than Colin or even me, which I admit isn't that hard."

Dennis waited for Harry to go on, and when he didn't, the boy answered, "What's your question, then?"

"Umm, why is it that Colin lets you order him around and you're generally more mature than he is?"

Dennis smiled, "Colin's always been a bit spastic, whereas I've always been a bit more reserved, but there was an incident about a year ago that drastically changed the dynamic of our relationship." The young boy took a deep breath and continued, "We were testing one of our potions, an intelligence boosting potion mixed with a wit sharpening solution; and as you can see it worked splendidly. While the initial boost began fading after about a month, some of it remains along with the knowledge I absorbed with almost perfect clarity, even now after 12 months. It was that discovery that really kicked our research into high gear as I became more able to contribute."

"Did Colin," Harry began to question.

"No, he views himself more as a Jimmy Olson or Jarvis, whereas I see myself as a Bruce Banner without the Hulk or a Hank Pym without the anger and ego," Dennis provided, cutting off Harry's question.

"It would help if I understood your references," Harry said in amusement.

"Right," Dennis said coloring slightly, "sorry about that. It means that he more wants to be a kind of sidekick, take pictures and tell stories about the hero. I want to be the guy who thinks up gadgets and solutions to impossible problems. Neither of us is cut out to be the hero, but we'd both be happy as hero support."

Colin returned just then, walking in the door floating a large steamer trunk in front of him. Directing the trunk to land in front of Harry, the hyperactive boy flicked his wand and opened the trunk, which was completely full of comics. "These are real graphic novels, Harry," he crowed, "not the tripe that the heathens of the Wizarding world call comics; Marvin the Mad Muggle, bah! Utter tripe!"

"Right," Harry agreed with the oddly serious statement, "So, which one should I start with?"

Dennis and Colin looked at each other, seeming to silently debate before Dennis answered, "I suggest starting with The Avengers," the younger of the pair answered, "There's a large myriad of powers there, so you can get an idea of the kinds of things we were looking at. Just be aware, as successful as I consider our project, there are a lot of powers that we haven't been able to duplicate yet."


	28. Unicorn

Unicorns

Harry was having a very bad day. He'd woken late, missed breakfast, was late for transfiguration, and to top it off he'd gotten a lunchtime detention with Snape for breathing. Breathing! What did the overgrown three year old expect him to do, hold his breath through his entire 2-hour long potions class?

Still grumbling to himself as he entered the great hall to grab a quick bite before heading out to Hagrids for Creatures, Harry was completely oblivious to the actions of the students within.

At first, there was silence, and then there was a little snickering along with some finger pointing and somewhat subtle gestures. Catcalls and several shouted suggestive ideas that, though interesting, were physically impossible unless you were a metamorphmagus, followed this.

Just as Harry went to sit down at the Gryffindor table a pair of panties hit him in the side of the head and a roar of laughter rose in the great hall as, as soon as he realized what they were, he blushed slightly and quickly tossed them away, only to have them land on Neville Longbottom's head.

Harry looked around the hall, then around the Gryffindor table and found to his dismay that Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all missing and nobody else seemed willing to talk to him, despite this, it was obvious that he was the center of attention. A short and frustrating lunch later, Harry left the hall and began trudging to Hagrids, the snickering, pointing and catcalls followed him.

Ron was absent from Hagrid's review of unicorns. Hermione seemed to be avoiding Harry while trying to appear not to be. Harry's classmates continued to snicker, and even Hagrid seemed a bit distracted, shooting Harry a few none-to-subtle glances.

Towards the end of the class, the students were broken into pairs and instructed to approach and feed a unicorn foal. Harry and Hermione were paired together and sent after a pair of skittish foals that kept their distance from everyone. When they approached the pair, both foals simultaneously bolted, one in either direction.

"Bugger this," Harry exclaimed as he watched the retreating unicorns, "you go get that one," he motioned to the one that ran towards the rest of the class, "I'll get the other." Without pause, he strode off, leaving Hermione to tend to a foal on her own before she could object.

The class watched in awe as Harry slowly approached the golden coated animal, murmuring softly to keep it calm. It took him only a few moments before the unicorn was taking food from his hands. When he had sufficiently calmed the animal and it had eaten its fill of the food he had, Harry turned away, only to be nudged in the back by the now quite playful animal. He pet the unicorn for a few moments, then hopped on its back and rode it back to where the rest of the class was now gathered, save for Hermione, who was busy trying to placate a cornered and increasingly irritated unicorn.


End file.
